Fix You
by ParaVox26
Summary: Written for blakelovessantana. Tori Vega is head bitch in charge at Sherwood High. Jade's the lowly, depressed outcast at Hollywood Arts. What happens when Jade is forced to go to Sherwood and the two clash? Multi-chapter. Mature Ideas. Jori. I took the photo cover from Tumblr, if you have any claim to it and don't want me using it, let me know it.
1. When U Love Someone But It Goes To Waste

**Hey guys, welcome to the story. I'm really excited to work on it. The chapter updates probably won't be regular, but I promise I do update frequently. I don't usually take a month to update.**

**Original Prompt from Blakelovessantana:I think a good Jori story would be Tori being a mega b*** and Jade being really shy and nerdy and instead of going to HA they'd be in Sherwood with Tori as HBIC head cheerleader or something like that :)**

When You Love Someone, But It Goes to Waste

"I don't want to talk about it." My voice sounds dead, even to me. I just can't bring myself to care about anything anymore. This is the billionth time Oliver has brought it up. I should be pissed. I should be going off on him, but I can't find it in me to care enough.

"Jade," he continues to pester. "You can't just avoid the subject forever." I silently ponder whether he's trying to provoke me. I really do just think he's looking for some kind of emotion. So am I, Oliver. So am I.

"I can do whatever I like," I reply, closing my locker as the two of us head to lunch.

"That's the point," he insists. "You're not doing what you like!" To anybody else, they might not have been able to follow his train of thought, but I've known Beck Oliver since forever. I'm one of very few people who have the right to call him by his last name.

"I do stuff I like," I retort, knowing full well I'm lying.

"Name one thing."

"I've been catching up on Criminal Minds," I respond. It's sad. As soon as I say it I realize there's little else I can name that I like doing anymore. I talk to Oliver. I watch Criminal Minds. I settle down with a nice book. That's all I do that I enjoy anymore.

"Jade, that's a past time. That's vaguely enjoyable. Watching TV should not be the best thing about your day," he argues.

"I like talking to you," I defend. "Or at least, I do when you're not like this. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because you're depressed!" he yells for the whole school to hear. I'm barely embarrassed. It's not a mystery. "You're wallowing in your own misery. I remember a girl who used to be happy and go home and write. I remember a girl who would come into school, a new script in hand every morning, wanting me to proofread. What happened to her?"

"She grew up," I reply bitterly, grabbing a tray from the lunch line.

"Jade," he sighs.

"Leave it alone, Oliver."

He's quiet for a little. I finally think he might let me have some peace. And then he speaks up. It is so soft spoken and calm it unnerves me. It lingers with sadness. "Why don't you write anymore?" He sounds like me. And for the first time I consider him. Maybe he's been around me too long. Has my cancer, my sickness of sadness, spread to him? And I feel something for the first time this conversation. I should let Ollie go. He should be happy, away from me.

"No inspiration," I respond, the thought eating at me.

"You haven't written in months."

"I know."

"You love writing."

I hesitate before answered. "I did."

Beck doesn't say anything for a second either. "Cristina wouldn't want this." It pierces my heart like a thousand arrows just to hear her name. I want to cry, but I'd run out of tears to shed a while ago.

"She has nothing to do with this," I deadpan.

"You stopped writing when she died."

"I told you, no inspiration." 'Stop talking about her,' my brain yells at him. YOU DON'T GET TO TALK ABOUT HER!

"I don't know if you're just holding all your feelings inside or if you're blocking them out. Either way, I'm afraid of the eruption that's inevitably going to happen when they come flooding out. I don't know what you're going to look like in the aftermath, but it scares me. You need to write and let your emotions out or maybe fucking start talking to me about it."

"With all that eruption bullshit a passerby might think you're the writer," I reply dryly.

"Jade," he warns.

"I'm not hiding my feelings or blocking them out. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm just uninspired, okay?" I pray he drops the subject. I can't take much more of this.

He gives me an I-don't-believe-you-in-the-slightest look, but doesn't say another word.

We grab our food and eat in silence.

** Fix You **

Cristina. I'd always loved the name. Cris. Crissy. They were just annoying. But Cristina was a beautiful name. It was… rare and perfect. I whispered her name from my lips like it was gospel. "Cristina." I couldn't get enough of it. Saying it had become my new drug.

She batted her eyelashes, pursed her lips, and replied. "Jade." I nearly melted from my name falling off her lips.

Cristina. I had never loved a name more.

** Fix You**

I stare at the teachers. I wonder if they think that they're doing is important, like it matters. Their trivial lives don't matter, not in the scheme of things.

What matters? Love. Hate. Sadness. Joy. Intimacy. A smile. Brown eyes. Red lips. A laugh. A name. That matters. Algebra? Doesn't matter.

They call on me and I don't respond. They glare at me because they know I don't know. I glare back at them because I don't care that I don't know. They think it's the end all be all for me to know whether y=mx+b or not. I know better. Nothing really matters in the end. We all just die in the end, don't we?

I begin to ponder the idea of life and death as I mindlessly twirl my pencil between my forefinger and middle finger. What is life but a series of highs and lows? And what happens when you've reached the highest high that you're ever going to reach in your life, and you know it. Do you stop living or do you keep soldiering on in hopes that a momentary lapse of happiness that will never compare to that high height will come into your life? What do you do when you've lost all hope? What do you do when you're hanging on by a thread?

Everyone else is walking around with giant smiles on their faces thinking they've found happiness in every day life. I know the truth. You don't find happiness in the every day. What they're feeling isn't true happiness. They only believe they're happy. And then I begin to wonder, is it better to have felt true happiness and have lost it or be able to keep on walking, keep on smiling, under the guise of ignorance and counterfeit happiness? I envy them.

Alfred Lord Tennyson said better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I still don't know whether or not I believe him.

** Fix You**

I remember a time when I could make an entire audience jump up off their feet and applaud for a play I'd written. I remember a time when people would come behind stage, complete strangers, and give me a bouquet of red roses and tell me this was the third time they'd come to see my play and cried every night. I remember a time when that used to mean something to me.

The cheers and the applause and the adoration used to fill me with joy. It used to make me feel accomplished. It used to make me smile and be happy that I could help even just one person in the audience who felt just like me and understand that they're not alone. I would pour my soul into those plays.

I don't talk much to begin with. I'm a writer, but sometimes words aren't enough. I've never been all that confident in my own life. I'm shy, but when I talk you can guarantee it'll be something worth hearing. At most schools I would've been considered nerdy (back when I gave a shit about school), a loser even, but at Hollywood Arts I wasn't. I would've been, if it wasn't for my writing. At Hollywood Arts popularity is based on talent. I was never very popular, I was on the very low end of the social totem pole, but people respected me because of my writing.

I didn't have any deep, emotional issues. I had a normal family, a good education, a couple close friends, and a passion for writing. I was never abused or anything, but even when I was little I understood that in life came a certain darkness. Most people know it's there, but stay in the light and pretend it can't touch them. I stay in the light, but I know the darkness can come and grab me at any time. It's a scary thought. That's what I would write about, the darkness in the world and sometimes in my life. For the people like me, who choose to see the darkness, they realized they weren't alone and for the people who choose to pretend, they get a glimpse into what us rare few see. It gives them the taste they want to see, but they could always go back and they did. For some reason, it has always connected with my audience.

That's what I love—loved—no, still love—about Cristina. She lived in the light, but she acknowledged the darkness. The weird thing about her was that she never let it bring her down. She was different from anybody I'd ever met. It was either one or the other. You either lived solely in the light, or you lived in the darkness just waiting for the day it would come out and snatch you. She was like finding a diamond in an endless field of coal, glimmering well everybody else was just a dull, black rock.

Or, I thought she was. I guess in the end she embraced a lot more darkness than I ever thought.

I'll never know what she saw in me. She'd always tell me she thought I was beautiful, but I never deserved it. She was like seeing an angel in the flesh. And who was I, a mere mortal, to look upon her? She'd tell me how I was funny or how I every time I wrote it was her scripture, but I never could live up to her magnificence. I might've written her scripture, but she **was** my scripture.

What do you do when your faith has left you?

**Fix You**

Dinner between dad and I was tense at best. We didn't know what to say to each other anymore. When Cristina first… died, he had tried to talk to me. He tried to comfort me. We'd never been close, but he always cared for me when it mattered. But nothing he did could help. Nothing anybody did could ever help me.

I tried a therapist for a while, and she was good. She tried talking to me at first, which didn't work, but then we found a pattern. I'd walk in and for the next hour I'd sit there in silence and so would she. We'd just think or stare off into the distance. That's all I ever needed from her. The company, the not being alone, helped.

So I sat there, rolling my food around on my plate, rearranging where the broccoli was every couple of minutes. "Jade, you have to eat," he says wearily. I don't know why he tries anymore. I don't know why he hasn't given up yet. He should. I wish he would. I'm down spiraling and I don't want anyone to help me back up because what's left for me up top where everyone else is?

I grunt, acknowledging him. I don't want to talk. If I don't talk, he can't engage in a conversation with me.

"So… I have some news," he says nervously. I guess I was wrong about the conversation.

I don't bother looking up. I can tell it's bad. Or, it would be. For old Jade it would be bad. But the concept of bad is based solely on perspective. And things can't get worse when they are already at their worst. He could tell me I'm going to hell and it wouldn't even be bad news. In fact, that would probably be good news. At least I'd finally be as dead as I feel inside.

He plays with his fork, the end screeching against his plate like nails on a chalkboard. "Spit it out," I bite, harsher than I had intended. It was odd to hear any emotion other than complete apathy.

He looked just as surprised as I did. "Times are getting harder Jade," he begins, easing me into the bad/good news. I honestly just want him to tell me what it is. "It's getting harder and harder to make ends meet." This barely spikes my interest. I've lost interest in material possessions as of late. There are only a few things that can be held that mean anything to me anymore. I don't need more shit or anything. "I'm afraid that we can't afford to have you going to Hollywood Arts anymore."

I wasn't expecting that. That actually startles me. That makes me feel something. Scared. I'd already lost Cristina. I'd lost nearly everything that meant anything to me. And now I was going to lose the only thing I had left. I was going to lose Oliver. "What does that mean for me?" I ask, shocked.

"It means that you're transferring to Sherwood," he responds. "I'm really sorry sweetie. If there was anything else I could change, I would. But…"

"I understand. I'm going out." I clear my dishes and walk out the door.

**Fix You**

I didn't plan to come here. It just happened that I did. I only meant to drive. I didn't actually have a destination in mind. But I guess I just subconsciously ended up here. This was the last time I saw her alive.

"_It looks so beautiful, doesn't it?" she says, staring up at the setting sun._

"_I guess," I respond. I never really understood the big deal about sunsets. I guess they were beautiful, but I'd always preferred the night. The night sky, with all its darkness, still had stars that burned through the heavy blackness from galaxies away. I thought that was more beautiful than some stupid colors in the sky._

"_You guess?" she teases._

_ I shrug. "They all look the same to me."_

_She immediately shoots up to stare at me. She gasps in semi-mock horror, "Jade West! They're always different. I've never seen a sunset that looks the same. Obviously, you need to stare at sunsets more."_

"_I will as long as you're with me," I respond. She smiles that blinding smile of hers that always makes my heart beat a little bit faster as she lays back down, her head on my chest and her body curled into mine lying flat on my back against the beach towel._

"_Then I guess you'll be seeing a lot more sunsets in your lifetime," she replies happily._

So now here I am, sitting on this beach all alone. My ass is getting all sandy and I'm going to need to take a shower to get all this sand out of my hair, but I don't really care right now. I just lie there and stare as the sun sets and fades into the dark night sky. As I fall asleep I wonder if Cristina is out there, one of the stars staring down at me through the darkness, through death, in our little slice of paradise on this beach. Or is she the darkness, embracing me into her grip, and taking me away with her to death?

**I know we didn't meet Tori in this chapter I'm sorry. Next chapter is all Tori's POV. The third chapter is when they'll finally meet!**


	2. U Tell All the Boys No Make U Feel Good

**Sorry the chapter titles on the site have awkward abbreviations and stuff like when you click to the next chapter, the site only allows for a certain amount of characters, so you have to abbreviate to fit the whole title sometimes.**

**Recap: Jade has been depressed and devastated for months since the death of her girlfriend, Cristina. She's gone emotionally numb after months of pain, nothing seems to matter to her anymore. Her father, unable to afford Hollywood Arts anymore, informs her that she's transferring to Sherwood High. She runs away to the beach where she and Cristina used to hang out to fall asleep and feel closer to her.**

You Tell All the Boys "No," Makes You Feel Good

"Hey bitch," Santana says as she approaches me in the parking lot. She clicks the lock on her keys to her Mercedes-Benz. Her dad is so rich that buying her a Mercedes is like any other dad buying his kid a ten-dollar toy car.

"Hey loser," I reply with a laugh as I lock up my Honda Civic. It's not nearly as expensive and sleek as Santana's Mercedes, but I make do. My dad insists it's a fine car. Obviously he doesn't understand the expense of being popular in high school.

You have to have all the right clothes, the perfect looks, the right car, the grades, the boys, and so much more it's impossible to list. Thankfully, I was born with all the right looks.

"Another wonderful day at Sherwood High," Santana says sarcastically, pushing her sunglasses off her face and up onto her head as we enter the building.

"Would you please be a little quieter," Carly says, sliding in beside me. She still has her sunglasses on over her eyes. She must've gotten completely wasted at Freddie's party last night.

It's always been the three of us, ever since freshman year. Being the hottest bitches in the joint, we instantly found each other. It was like we were meant to be. I, of course, am the leader, always at the center of our trio. I'm your best friend, until I'm not. Santana is my right hand girl. She'll chew you up and spit you out in a minute with her vicious, biting words and not give you a second thought later. Carly, she's a little more passive. But if a rumor just started that you have the gonorrhea, you can bet she's the one that started it. Are we a little bit vicious? Yes. But that's just the way things work in this lifetime. It's called natural selection. Only the strong survive.

"Maybe you shouldn't have gotten so drunk last night," Santana bites back. Carly sneers in return.

"Fuck off," Carly responds, shooting the middle finger at Santana. "I'm sorry I wasn't just sluttin' it up like you. Don't think I didn't see you go into that bedroom with Puck and Sam."

""I was keeping my boyfriend happy," Santana retorts.

"By sleeping with him and that loser Sam Puckett," Carly responds. "Can you spell lesbian?"

"Can you?" Carly looks like she's really trying to figure it out for a moment before giving up. Usually, she could. But right now, she's wasted as all hell and probably a little bit high.

"At least I have a boyfriend to keep happy."

"Whatever," Carly responds. I sigh and roll my eyes. It's always this way between us. Those two get into some stupid fight, which Santana always inevitably wins because Carly doesn't have the tongue for comebacks.

We make it to our lockers, where my gorgeous boyfriend is waiting with his charming smile. "Hey babe," he says, leaning forwards and giving me a peck on the cheek. "Last night was great," he whispers in my ear.

I blush and slap him lightly. He jumps backwards, rubbing his arm n mock-pain. The dance of flirtation is one that is mastered with a bat of eyelashes, a flip of your hair, a touch of prudery in public, and finally a nymphomaniac in the sheets. "Not in public," I mutter as if I were embarrassed. I barely care, but it's all part of the flirtatious foreplay.

"Relax, tiger," he says with a wink. "I bruise easy." He is perfect. He's the star basketball player, devilishly handsome, easily the most popular boy in school, charming, bad, and pretty good in bed. All the guys want to be him and all the girls want to be with him. With him on my arm we're a shoe-in for prom king and queen.

"Well then, we're going to have to play by my rules," I respond.

"And what are your rules, my queen?" he says, bowing down to me as though he were my knight.

I smirk. "Worship me."

"Your wish is my command," he says. He begins peppering me with kisses that make me squeal and laugh. I notice Carly's disgusted face and Santana's complete lack of caring.

I push him off of me when I hear the bell ring. "I have to get to class, you."

"See you later babe," he says, with one last kiss to my lips.

"Later." I grab my books from my locker and motion for the girls to follow behind me. We've got to get to class.

**Fix You**

I stare at Santana as she eats her salad, not worrying for a second about the amount of calories she might be taking in. I don't understand it. She has the perfect body, not that I've been checking her out. But she has nice breasts, a thin stomach, hourglass hips, and long legs. She stays on a diet, but eats as much as she wants without worrying. I don't know how she pulls it off.

Carly is probably not as sexually attractive, but she's still beautiful. She's got the perfect porcelain features and the cute smile that always attracts boys. I don't know how she does it, she literally eats two cheeseburgers if she wants, and she's still as skinny a string bean.

And then there's me, staring down at my plate of food and not eating a bite. Every once in a while I change the order of where he food is or I take a bite here and there so they don't realize, although I doubt they'd really care that I'm not eating all that much.

I stare at everyone else in the cafeteria, enjoying their lunches, laughing and talking. None of them seem to be giving a damn about how much food they put in their bodies or what their stomachs will look like when bikini season comes along. I envy them.

And then I catch the fat girls. They're sitting at a table near the edge of the Quad right near the trashcans. They're right where they should be: The Loser's Section. They're ugly, overweight, and… happy. They're smiling and laughing and enjoying their food. They're not even caring what other people think of them.

"Look at them," I murmur, pointing the girls out to Carly and Santana. "The fat pigs. Haven't they ever heard of working out?"

Carly and Santana laughs. "Maybe we should remind them," Santana says devilishly.

I pick up my tray and start walking towards them with determination. I can feel blood rushing in my veins as I march straight up to them. The look on their face goes from happy to fearful in a second. It makes me feel good to be feared. I'm in control. I feign a trip and spill my salad on all of them. "Sorry girls," I say with absolutely no apology in my voice. "How clumsy of me to spill my salad on you." I smirk. "Have you ever heard of a salad? Because it doesn't look like it."

Santana and Carly laugh behind me. They look so sad and dejected as they begin wiping off the salad dressing from their clothes.

I do feel a little bit bad because I know exactly how they feel. They feel fat and they want to change and they want society to stop caring about weight. But there's a stronger emotion in me. Control.

I remind myself that I am nothing like them. They are not who I am. I am not fat. They are. I am better than them. So I start to laugh. I laugh because I am in control of my life. And I start to feel better. Their pain boosts my ego. I'm not eating right now so I can be skinnier. I'm not going to be fat like they are.

"See you later ladies," I say, not bothering to pick up my tray or anything as we walk away. Santana throws away her meal and puts her tray up on the garbage can, but Carly purposely misses, letting the food splatter right by their feet.

"My bad," she says bitingly. The three of us laugh.

**Fix You**

"You should really keep an eye on that boyfriend of yours," Santana warns as we finish up in the locker rooms after practice.

"Ryder?" I'm afraid of what she's going to say, but worse, I'm afraid that what I'm thinking is what she's going to say.

"He was checking out one of the God Freaks… Quinn Fabray," Santana notes. It's weird that Santana knew her name. Santana usually doesn't know anyone's name. She claims that most people aren't worth remembering.

"You can't be sure he was checking other girls out," I argue. I was right. I knew he was a player before we dated and I didn't exactly expect that to change. But I expected him to keep his ass in line. He's got the hottest girl at this school and I'm also putting out. We've got to stay at the top of the ladder. He should know that. And he should appreciate what he's got. Me.

"I'm sure he wasn't," Carly adds.

"I know when somebody is checking someone else out," she replies, packing up the last of her things. "Anyways, see you later bitches."

"Bye loser," I reply absent-mindedly.

"See you, slut," Carly says. It's our thing. Santana calls us bitches, Carly calls us sluts, and I call them losers.

Once Santana leaves Carly comes over to console me. "Ryder isn't stupid enough to want anybody but you, especially one of those stupid Jesus Freaks. We're the hottest pieces of action in this wretched place." She flips her hair.

"I know," I growl out. "I don't need you to confirm what I'm already aware of." Carly runs back to her locker to finish packing up, tail between her legs.

I almost wish she'd say it again. Her saying it out loud helps. It almost makes me believe her. But I can't help but wonder if I'm losing Ryder. I'm doing everything I should. I'm hot. I fuck him at least once a week. I'm on his arm to all his parties. I'm his little trophy to sport around to his jock-jerk buddies. What more could I do to keep him with me?

I need him. I couldn't actually care less about him, but he's a status symbol around here. We are Sherwood's power couple. I am head cheerleader and he's the basketball star. If he were to dump me, the social backlash I would get from that would be unimaginable. He's how I'm going to stay at the top of the social ladder come senior year. I can't afford to lose him.

**Fix You**

"Hey Tor, what are you doing here?" Ryder asks, stepping outside of his doorway. Without a single word I jump onto him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as our lips connect. His reflexes kick in as his arms grip around my waist. His hand fumbles with the door as we make our way inside, up the stairs, and straight to his bed.

"I like this side of you," Ryder growls in my ear as we make it to his room.

"And I like this part," my hand reaches for the noticeable bulge in his pants, "of you." The two of us grin as we fall onto his bed.

**Fix You**

**Tori:** Hey loser

**Santana: **Why are you texting me at fucking 2am in the morning?

**Tori:** That thing you were talking about with Ryder? It won't be happening again.

**What did you think of Tori's character? I didn't expect her to be so hard to write, but I actually had a lot of difficulty with her. It's difficult for me to write a bitch, oddly. How do you feel about her? Horrible person or a little sympathetic?**

**I'm sorry this was a little on the shorter side, but the chapter sizes will vary. It all just depends on how much I have to say and as the story goes on I believe I'll have a lot more to say as Tori's character develops.**

**Today is my birthday! So please make it amazing and leave a review!**


	3. When U Feel So Tired, But U Can't Sleep

**I thought it was really funny that somebody called Tori a psychopath because when I was writing her, I actually intended her to be even more cruel. The lunch scene was supposed to be humanizing, believe it or not.**

**Also the definition of a psychopath: they tend to be antisocial and show little remorse or empathy. Some other characteristics can be pathological lying, manipulative, and typically don't own up to any wrongdoing. Observe Tori throughout chapters and see if she has these characteristics.**

**Obviously, the person was being hyperbolic when they said she was psychopath, but I wanted to make a point that she's not.**

**Recap: We meet Tori, Queen ruler of the school, with her two followers Santana Lopez ad Carly Shay and her handsome, cocky boyfriend Ryder Daniels on her arm. She bullies some fat girls, wanting to feel some control and stability in her life so that she feels skinnier. When Santana hints that Ryder might be cheating on Tori, or at least having a straying eye, Tori goes over to his house and sleeps with him to affirm their relationship.**

When You Feel So Tired, But You Can't Sleep

It's funny what life will throw at you. Maybe it'll throw you the perfect lyrics to the song you've been writing. Or those really expensive shoes you've been wanting on sale. Maybe it'll throw you the girl of your dreams. Maybe it'll throw you everything you've ever wanted in life.

But then, it'll take it all away. Life is a little bitch that's been around so long it has gotten bored with us. Its only pleasure is in seeing us suffer. It loves watching that song you finished writing fail, never to be heard by an audience. It likes to make sure all of the popular kids laugh at your new shoes. It gets so much pleasure out of giving you the perfect girl, only to have her slash her wrists. We're all just life's puppets. The good, it doesn't really matter. Not when the bad will be there to steal it away from you every single time.

That's what I'm thinking about when I walk into Sherwood High. Sure, it sucks that I'm being transferred into this shithole of a school in the middle of the year, but it doesn't matter. It was only inevitable that this would happen. I had a good thing going at Hollywood Arts, and so life took it away. The same way I had Cristina and life took her away from me. And now life has taken away Beck from me as well by having me transferred.

There are really only three options in life: the good (which we've determined is temporary at best), the bad (which dominates all in the end), and sleepwalking (because eventually the bad becomes so painful the only way to make it through is by sleepwalking through it).

Every kid here is sleepwalking, stuck on autopilot. I'm new. I'm foreign to them. They need to assess what this means for them. So they stare at me, figuring out if I'm good or bad. My presence threatens to wake them up from their sleepwalking. They need to make sure I won't be the one to wake them.

Luckily for them, I couldn't care less about waking them from their miserable existence.

I look down at the papers the guidance counselor, Lane, gave me. Locker 241. Looks like I've got to go to the second floor. Passing up the stairs feels lonely. At Hollywood Arts there'd be people all up and down the stairs practicing dance routines, running lines, or tapping out a beat on their drumsticks. There'd always be somebody there to give you a smile. Usually I hate smiles from random strangers. But on my worst days, the days I thought I wouldn't see tomorrow, sometimes those smiles saved me. They made me feel cared for. They reminded me of why I'm still here. At Sherwood everybody is cold. Nobody gives you a second glance around here. Nobody's going to offer you a smile out of the goodness of his or her heart. They're all too self-absorbed to give a shit about a random stranger.

I begin getting closer to my locker. 234. 235. 236… Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the convenience of order. I like that they make 235 come after 234. I like that the lockers are ordered. But what if locker 241 was next to locker 137? Would that really be so horrible? What if the loud, noisy gym was right next to the library as opposed to across campus? What if the hours of school happened at night when no one could see outside? Would a little chaos be so bad?

It's not that I desire chaos. It's just that I don't desire order. Schools are so clinical and orderly. You need to be at this class at this time every day for nine months. School needs to track your every single movement. It needs to be completely in control of your every thought, training you to be society's perfect little soldiers so that we never consider thinking for ourselves. I want locker 241 to be next to locker 137.

Unfortunately, that's simply not the case when I reach my locker. It's snug in between 240 and 242, right where it should be. I'm not surprised, but I find myself oddly disappointed as I spin the locker combination.

I like the inside of the locker. It's not like the rest of the school. Its previous owners made it theirs. The words "fuck" and "burn" are spray painted into the locker and there's a crudely drawn skull in the corner, obviously made by a pocketknife. It's my own little slice of chaos. Maybe I'll add some scissors for dramatic flair.

As I begin to puzzle over which pairs of scissors I should leave in my locker, a guy approaches me. He's the typical alpha male. He has brown hair that looks rather greasy and a charismatic smile that most definitely makes all the ladies go weak in the knees. There's a twinkle in his eyes, most girls probably misread it as mysterious and attractive. They think he'll be their very own Patrick Verona from "10 Things I Hate About You," a bad boy with a heart of gold underneath that will only reveal itself to them. What they don't see is the devil beneath that mysterious twinkle.

"Hey there beautiful," he says. His voice oozes of charm. It makes me want to vomit. I can practically here the shed tears for all the hearts he's broken. I don't dignify his words with a response. He continues talking as he runs his fingers through his hair, "My name is Ryder. Ryder Daniels." He offers his hand, now greasy looking from his hair gel.

I scoff, eyes acknowledging his hand and purposefully ignoring it. "Who do you think you are? James Bond?"

"I'm whoever you want me to be," he replies without a second thought. I'm almost impressed. This asshole doesn't miss a beat.

After putting some of my books into my locker I slam it closed and turn towards him. "Hm…" I say playfully. "Whoever I want?" I ask.

He nods. "For a girl as gorgeous as you, I'd be anyone or anything." I like how he thinks he has a chance.

"Well," I say sweetly. "I'd really like for you to go the fuck away," my voice turning into a growl.

His smile falls. He's not used to being rejected. I wonder if he's even used to having a conversation this long before girls drop their panties for him. I berate myself, I really freaking hate the word panties.

In a second, he regains his footing and turns up the charm so much I can practically taste it on my tongue. "I like a woman with a little fight in her." He tips his head with a quick raise of his eyebrows. I groan.

I stare at him dead in the eye with a no-shit scowl on my face and get close enough for him to feel my breath on his face so he can't miss what I'm about to tell him. "You're just another sexist douchebag who looks at women as prizes to be won rather than equals to be respected." For a second he looks genuinely shocked, the cocky smirk on his face washed away.

And then a voice interrupts everything. "Ryder!" She sounds pissed. And let me tell you, whoever it was, sounds pretty hot when they're mad.

I back away from Ryder and look over his shoulder and see… Cristina. Not actually of course, but god she reminds me of Cristina. She has the most flawless complexion. Her hair is a couple shades darker than Cristina's was, but it flows down the exact same way. It takes everything in me not to just go up to her and run my fingers through her perfect hair. Her eyes look alive, something I haven't felt in the longest time. They remind me of Cristina's: warm with an underlying sadness. And don't get me started on her cheekbones…

"Hey babe," Ryder says coolly as if he hadn't just been flirting with me a second ago. I smirk. She must be the girlfriend, or at least another one of the girls he picked up with his shit pick-up lines.

"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice comes out cold and demanding. She sounds nothing like Cristina when she speaks. She's definitely the girlfriend and probably the ruler of this school.

"Nothing babe, I swear," Ryder says. He tries to wrap an arm around her waist, but she pulls away.

"Really? Because from where I'm standing it looks like you're flirting with her!" I can almost laugh at the sight. He's not going to weasel his way out of this one.

"She's new. I just came up to her to offer some help getting around and suddenly she was coming on to me. I promise, babe. I'm not into _that_," he scowls and almost looks like he's going to spit on me just to make a point. I enjoy that five seconds ago he wanted to have sex with me and now I'm not even acknowledged as being human. I'm just 'that.'

Boys like him are a breed. They're cocky; overconfident jerks that think that if they smile really big and say a couple of sweet words they'll get away with anything. He's about to have his little imaginary world shred to pieces. "That was so nice of you sweetie!" WHAT!

I can see the smug look on his face grow. "You are so not my type," I defend. I can't have her seeing me like this! She has to know I didn't do it!

"Shut up slut," she barks at me. I can feel my heart drown and fall in my chest.

"He came up to me and flirted with me," I try to explain, outraged and desperate.

Another girl, obviously the best friend, steps up to speak. "Don't try to blame it on Ryder when you were just being a little whore!" She's gorgeous, Latina, but dull in comparison to **the** girl.

"Hi!" Another voice interrupts. I glance over to my side where an overzealous red head is bouncing around trying to talk to me. "Who are you? I'm Cat!"

"Like the animal," sneers a pale girl with jet-black hair and an obvious hangover.

"What's that supposed to mean!" the redhead shrieks. All of us cringe at the horrible sound.

A distasteful look crosses **her** face as she grabs her boyfriend's hand. "Come on, Ryder. No need to deal with these losers anymore." And just like that she flounces away, her posse of two following behind her like slaves.

"God she is a bitch," I mutter under my breath. And she's also really beautiful and kind of amazing… I rebuke myself immediately. There's nothing amazing about her. She's horrible. She's strong. I like a girl who doesn't take shit from anybody… No Jade, stop!

"Yup," says the redhead, bringing me back to reality.

"Are you like, mental, or something?" I ask. Nobody sane or smart would interrupt the obvious rulers of this school run down another loser.

"No, I'm Cat!" she replies cheerily. "And you looked like you needed help. They always leave when I arrive. André says it's because they think I'm crazy. Did you know this isn't my real hair color?" she laughs this innocent, childlike laugh that I find incredibly unnerving for a kid in high school. "My brother thought I was an intruder so he smashed a vase into my head and I really loved the color of blood in my hair so I went to the drug store and-" she's interrupted by the bell.

"Are you sure you're not crazy?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Um… nothing."

**Fix You**

"You can come over and sit with me!" I haven't been able to shake Cat all morning. She just keeps coming back. She's like a child who thinks I'm her mommy. Her cheerfulness annoys me. But I do find her fascinating. It's funny. I've never met anybody who ever truly lives in the light. It's not that she ignores the darkness, necessarily; she just doesn't even know it's there. To her it's not dark. And I'm not sure if that talent is dangerous or beautiful.

I sigh. I don't really have anywhere else to sit and I doubt anybody else will be inviting me over. Where you sit on your first day defines where you sit for the rest of the year. I guess the offer I had now was better than sitting alone or with the dorks who'd just stare at my boobs and get boners the whole time.

She leads the way to an almost empty lunch table near the outskirts of the cafeteria. It was clear how this cafeteria worked. The popular kids sat at the center of it all, narcissistic as ever, and the farther away from the center you got the more of a loser you were labeled. Not that labels mean jack shit in high school.

The only other person sitting at the table was a black guy with beautiful dreads in his hair and a nice smile. I hope that he's not as crazy and irritatingly optimistic as Cat is. "Hey there little red," André says. "Whose the new mama?" I don't exactly appreciate being called a 'mama,' but at least he doesn't seem crazy like she does or a jerk like that guy Ryder this morning.

"This is Jadey!" she says, practically jumping as she sits down next to him.

"Jade West," I correct, sending a withering glare at the bubbling redhead. I told her not to call me that. Unfortunately, she hasn't stopped or caught any of my glares.

"Hey Jade," the guy with the honey-sweet voice responds. "I'm André." He offers a hand. He's the first one that has been offered that I've accepted today.

"So what brings you to our table? Who did Cat rescue you from?" I raise an eyebrow. Is that something she does? She often 'rescues' people? I wonder if that's what she did for André

"I don't know her name," I reply.

"Tori Vega," Cat replies absent-mindedly as she eats a cheeseburger.

"Damn girl, you already crossed Tori Vega?" André whistles. "I don't know if you're amazing or crazy."

"I didn't mean to," I reply. Tori. I wonder if that's short for Victoria…

"Whatever, man, but you better be careful. The girl looks like an angel, but so did the devil before he fell." He's right about one thing… she looks like an angel.

**Fix You**

I can't sleep. I glance over to my clock. 1:00 in the morning. Ever since Cristina died I haven't been sleeping that well. My mind is too abuzz with her—her scent, her smile, her name, her everything—to go to sleep.

But today is different. Today I have another girl on my brain. Tori. And it's ridiculous. I barely know her and she was a complete bitch to me, but I don't know… there was just something about her. She was so beautiful I'd swear she was not of this earth. And there was something in her eyes beyond the fire. I don't know why, but the odd mix of live sadness, draws me in. I can't tell what she's living in: the darkness or the light. Most people, you can tell in a glance. But with her I can't tell. I need to know.

The thought of her running through my head drives me crazy. I've felt this feeling before. It starts in my fingertips until my entire body is buzzing. It's telling me I need to write. I haven't written in months. Not since…

I sigh. I know that I won't be able to focus on anything else until I write it down. Writing is like a compulsion to me. It's undeniable. It's what kept me sane all these years.

I rise out of bed and walk over to the computer. Every step feels heavy with the weight of months and years and Cristina. But that's how most of the steps I take feel. But this one is different. With all its heaviness, it feels liberating. I haven't been able to write for months. It hurt too much, but I never had anything to say until now.

As I sit down and open a new Word document I feel a flood of relief run through my system.

Working Title: Tori.

**Hey guys! What did you think? I know that right now it's mostly attraction for Jade, but I think that'll change as the story goes on. I do have it all planned out, but things can change at a moment's notice. I did update within a week's time which was my goal! Anyways I hope you liked it! Leave your opinions and comments.**


	4. Behind Your Broadway Show

**Recap: Jade comes to Sherwood and is hit on by Ryder Daniels, she rejects him outright (considering she is gay), unfortunately that's not the way his girlfriend sees it. His girlfriend, Tori Vega, who holds a likeness to her dead ex, stuns jade. She also meets Cat and Andre. Jade goes home and tries to sleep, but find she can't and begins writing a play (something she hasn't done since her ex, Cristina, died) and the title is: Tori.**

Behind Your Broadway Show

"I can't believe it either! I have to work with that Jesus Freak Quinn for the rest of the year! I knew I shouldn't have switched lab partners halfway through the year," moans Santana into the phone.

"Better than that nerd you were paired with before. Rodney? Ricky?"  
"Robbie," confirms Santana, disgust and malice laced into her voice.

"He's a waste of space," I reply. "He's as unattractive as they come and he doesn't even have the brains to back it up. He should just go kill himself, save the rest of us the trouble of sharing the same air." For a moment I feel a little bit bad, but the guilt vanishes just as quickly as it came.

"At least she might be smarter than he was," Carly comments absent-mindedly. I can practically imagine her, sprawled over on her bed with blood rushing to her head as she hangs off the edge. She really could use whatever extra brainpower she can get.

"She's hardcore Christian. I wonder if she even believes in evolution," bites Santana. "The rest of the year is going to be so rough. Maybe I could convince the teacher to change it."

"Dukes? Please, he's such a hard ass there's no way you're going to change his mind."

"I bet he hasn't gotten any in awhile either," Santana replies mischievously.

Carly gasps. "You're going to fuck Douche-y Dukes?" she asks, using the name we'd created for him.

"Of course not," Santana replies. "That's disgusting. I'd give him a hand job or something." I can practically hear Carly cringing through the phone. Honestly, so am I. Mr. Dukes is like 50 years old and graying. He's slightly below average in the looks department for his age (add in his age and he's disgusting) and he's below bad when it comes to his personality.

"Santana, I don't want to hear this," I add in.

"You don't have to deal with his shit, kiss up. All the teachers love you," Santana remarks bitterly.

"Maybe if you paid any attention in class they'd like you too," I reply, shutting her up in a moment. Carly and Santana can bicker all they want, but once I say something it's shut up or get out. Santana knows better than to cross me. "Now, what do you guys know about the new girl?"

"You mean the one that was hitting on Ryder?" Carly asks.

I sigh. "Obviously. We're in the middle of the school year. Do you** know** of any other new girls?"

"I'm just checking," Carly defends. "Give me five minutes." She clicks the end button on her phone. I'll never understand that girl. She's not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to brains, but if you need her to dig up dirt on someone, she's the girl to call.

"Why do you care about her?" Santana asks.

"Because she was flirting with my boyfriend," I growl out. Obviously Ryder is faithful to me (I can hear the little voice of doubt in my head that I know is right, but I push it away. I need Ryder.), but he is human after all. He can't help but stare at other beautiful girls. She has raven hair and seductive, deep blue eyes. It's not easy to resist, so I need something against her to crush her and tarnish her image in Ryder's mind.

"Got that boyfriend under control, huh?" Santana mocks. She needs to learn when to keep her mouth shut. I told her that I had it under control after I slept with Ryder and now she's questioning it.

"She came onto him," I seethe.

"Whatever you want to believe, but that boy is as faithful as that guy with thirty wives," Santana replies. Why can't she just shut the fuck up? She doesn't know anything about him. She barely talks to him. She's just going off of her 'Mexican third eye,' which everyone knows is bullshit.

"Ryder and I have been going strong for three months. How long have you and Puckerman going for?" I retort.

"Two weeks," she responds, clearly beaten.

"Exactly. And you're already having threesomes with him to keep him happy because you're afraid of losing him. Who here should be giving the relationship advice?" She doesn't say anything and I smile. Winning feels good. Santana may be the one with the fast tongue in our group, but she can never beat me. There's a reason I'm the Queen of this school and she isn't.

She reeks of desperation. She wants to be loved. She wants to be respected and feared and most of all wanted. Behind it all, I can sense her fear. She's got secrets that she doesn't want anybody realizing. And I can see her fear and extort her because of it. The moment everybody else smells fear, they're like sharks smelling blood in the water. You could never let them know you're scared. They'll use it against you. But a woman with no fears can do anything, which means they can't do anything.

I feel my phone buzz against my hand. Carly is calling back. I click the button to answer and patch her into our conversation again. "Her name is Jade West," Carly states. "She's in our grade and transferring from Hollywood Arts, that school for all the 'gifted' retards," Carly says spitefully. "She's some budding writer, known nation wide for a play she wrote that I'm not watching. She doesn't seem to have any friends. Shy. Reclusive. Hasn't had a huge online for the past couple of months. She lives alone with her dad. She likes scissors. She hates the word panties. And she's a Gemini." It always astounds me what Carly can do with a couple of minutes, the Internet, and her cellphone.

"What was the name of that play?"

"The Sunflower Sundress."

"That sounds so stupid," Santana intercedes.

"Thanks Carly, see you later losers."

"Bye bitch.

"Later slut." Once Carly says goodbye I hang up the phone and walk over to my computer to go look her up.

I type "Jade West" into the search engine and hope what I'm looking for pops up. Surprisingly, it does. I click on the first web address "National Short Film Competition: 2014 Winner Jade West."

_Jade West is an aspiring young writer who attends Hollywood Arts and is the 44__th__ winner of the national short film competitions, beating out thousands of other applicants with her play "The Sunflower Sundress." It is a beautifully crafter story about a young girl named Ruby dealing with the death of the one she loves most and her spiraling depression as it continues._

I scroll down a little bit until I hit a video. I don't have to click it. I know it probably won't end up helping me in the long run. I mean, what kind of blackmail am I going to find in some stupid, probably shittily written, play?

But for some reason I need to click that button. I don't understand that girl. She was coming onto my boyfriend, but when she was defending herself something didn't fit. I mean, the story fit. She was hitting on Ryder and when I caught her she lied and defended herself. But there's something beyond that. I could feel it when I looked—glared—into her eyes that she wasn't lying when she told me that 'she wasn't into that.' I know she wasn't, I lie enough to know the difference. I need to get into her head. I need to know what she's thinking and why. I may not get any blackmail off of this, but I can better push every emotional trigger she has.

So I click the button.

**(AN: BEFORE WE BEGIN I JUST WANT TO GIVE CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE AND SAY THIS WAS HEAVILY BASED ON "A TOUT LE MONDE" BY SHAYNEZO AND YOU SHOULD READ IT)**

_The screen is dark at first, but then the magical letters appear out of the black screen "The Sunflower Sundress." The credits begin to play against the black screen and I lean back in my chair as I endure the boring part. Written by Jade West and starring Jade West as Ruby, Brittany S. Pierce as Caroline, Beck Oliver as Bryan, and Gibby Gibson doing special effects and filming._

_The screen lights up on two girls in bed. One is asleep and the other is slowly waking up._

_The camera focuses in on her soft features. She looks beautiful. "Hey Rubes," says the blonde who was already awake. The sun is shining down on her so she looks exactly like an angel._

"_C-Caroline?" Jade stutters out. "You're… You're here."_

"_Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?" she laughs playfully and taps Jade on the nose. Jade opens her mouth as if to talk, but then shuts it quickly. "Time to get up babe, we have to go to school." Caroline jumps up out of bed, completely naked, as she walks towards the bathroom._

I can feel my jaw drop. I can't believe there's homosexuality in this. It makes my heart pick up and run out of my chest. I'm not exactly homophobic, it's just… it makes me a little uncomfortable. A penis fits perfectly into a vagina for a reason. They can have their legal marriage for all I care, as long as they don't try to hit on me.

"_Last night was amazing," the girl calls from behind the closed door of the bathroom._

_Jade still looks confused as she responds, "Yeah." The sound of a flushing toilet and running water can be heard off camera._

_Caroline emerges from the bathroom. "Babe? What's wrong? Where's that brilliant head of yours?"_

"_You… You shouldn't be here," Jade says quietly._

"_What do you mean?" She has this adorable little frown on her face. She self-consciously reaches for a blanket, covering herself up._

"_I'm so happy to see you again, but you're dead," Jade replies._

"_Well, I'm alive right now. Let's take advantage of it," Caroline replies, jumping back into bed and laying a passionate kiss on Jade's lips._

_Suddenly, a flash of light appears and we return to Jade in bed, alone. "All just a dream," she mumbles as she gets out of bed. She shuffles out into the bathroom and when the door closes._

_When the door opens again it's clear that time has passed. Jade comes out looking a little more presentable, but still beautiful. Her walk, her face, everything about her screams depression as she slugs along across the floor and straight to the liquor cabinet where a tall bottle of Vodka is waiting. She shrugs, opens the bottle, and takes a giant swig._

"_Baby, put the bottle down," Caroline says, appearing out of thin air on the couch next to her. It's clear that Jade has imagined her because there's a soft glow around Caroline._

"_Caroline," she murmurs. She brings her hand to Caroline's cheek, but Caroline pulls away. A look of pure despair crosses Jade's face. "No babe, not yet."_

_ "I know you're not here," Jade murmurs, staring into Caroline's face. "I mean, every logical sensor of my brain is telling me you're not here." Caroline clearly wants to touch Jade, but restrains herself to preserve the fantasy. "But…"_

_ "Shh,"Caroline cuts her off. "I'm here with you right now. That's all that matters."_

_ "That's all that matters," Jade replies weakly with a bright but devastated smile on her face._

_ "Do you remember that time we were running around doing that stupid scavenger hunt so Beck could impress that girl?"_

_ "Courtney," Jade laughs. "He won her the prize and she thanked him and walked away." The sound of her laugh, it's harsh in her throat. You can tell it's been a long time since she's laughed. It sounds awkward, almost foreign to the laugher._

_ "And when I stabbed that guy with your scissors, do you remember what you said?"_

_ The carefree smile on Jade's face disappeared, replaced by a serious expression. "I said I loved you."_

_ "And what did I say?" Caroline asks._

_ "You said you'd be with me. Forever," Jade whispers. "You lied to me." Tears spill over her eyes._

_ "I never lied to you," Caroline says. "I am always with you."_

_ Jade looks up at her, pain and fury and love behind her eyes. "But never quite there." Angrily, desperately, Jade reaches up to touch Caroline's face. Caroline disappears like a rainbow in the sky._

_Jade takes another swig of vodka as a knock on the door rings out throughout the hollow sounding apartment. "Ruby, it's Bryan."_

_A scowl crosses Jade's face. "Go away!" she growls with another swig of vodka._

"_Not gonna happen," Bryan replies. The latch on the door opens and an attractive guy with long, jet-black hair enters the room carrying what appears to be a grocery bag. Jade barely acknowledges his presence. "Rubes, the vodka, again?" Bryan stalks into the room and grabs the bottle from Jade. She makes a whining sound as she reaches for the bottle in a vain attempt to get it back._

"_How the fuck did you get in here anyways?" she asks gruffly._

"_I know where you keep your spare key," Bryan replies, pouring the bottle of vodka down the drain._

_Jade jumps off the couch. "You don't have any right to do that!" she practically screams as she races over to stop him. He keeps the bottle out of reach until every last drop goes down the drain._

"_I'm doing this for your own good. You can't keep sulking around here." She heads back to the couch and picks up a cigarette as Bryan unloads the grocery bag into her fridge._

"_Why are you here, destroying my liquor supply?" Jade asks angrily._

"_Because you haven't been to work in a month. You're the head of the company. You can't just disappear. It's chaos."_

"_I don't care. Let it all go to hell. It doesn't matter to me anymore."_

"_Ruby, you spent years building up this company. You offer jobs to thousands of people. You can't just abandon it all," Beck argues._

"_You know Caroline hated that company? She always said it took me away from her for too long. She should've been my first priority. Always." She takes another drag from her cigarette._

"_Ruby," Beck says, walking over to the couch. He put a hand on her shoulder, "You gave her everything you possibly could—"_

"_No I didn't," Jade replied fiercely. "I… all those wasted hours. All that wasted time. I should've been with her." The fire in her eyes dies down. "Fuck the company. Fuck it all. Fuck this life. There's nothing in it for me anymore."_

"_Don't you dare say that," Beck scolds. "There is me. There is your family. There is so much to live for." He pulls her tight in his embrace, ending the scene._

_When she wakes up she's in bed and Beck is gone, clearly having moved her from the couch to her bed. Jade gets up and walks over to the couch again to grab another pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag._

"_Baby, I thought we talked about this. You were gonna quit smoking," Caroline responds._

"_Yeah well, I decided it was better for my mental health not to," Jade responds brusquely._

_Caroline disappears as Jade walks away towards the bathroom. She begins running the water and stripping down._

I can feel my heartbeat pick up as this small part of my mind hopes they show her naked. Not because I'm attracted to her… obviously. Just because… I don't know.

_It doesn't. We see Jade step into the tub. For a couple of seconds we just see the water beat down on her. She seems to revel in it for a short amount of time, eyes closed. Eventually, she opens her eyes and reaches for her razor. In moments she makes two long, deep cuts in her wrists as blood starts gushing out. "Caroline?" she calls out._

_Caroline appears. "Ruby?"_

"_I miss you. So damn much," Jade says._

"_What have you done?" Caroline practically screams._

"_I couldn't stand to live without you," Jade says, her tears mixing in with the water. "And now I can finally be with you." She tentatively reaches out to touch Caroline. In that moment, her hand meets her face and they finally touch. Caroline nestles into her embrace. "Forever."_

_And just like that, the play blacks out._

That night I can't sleep. I don't know why.

**This one was actually really hard to write. I encourage you all to go check out the story "A Tout Le Monde" by Shaynezo. It's an amazing story that everyone should read and it brought me to tears. My story does resemble it in a lot of ways, but theirs is much betters, much more emotional, and much more in depth.**

**Also, I just watched "Gone With the Wind" and am dying because Scarlett was a narcissistic little bitch and I love her anyways and she and Rhett were totally endgame. Right? Agh!**


	5. Lights Will Guide You Home

**I'm sorry. I know we've kind of had an unofficial I'll-update-every-week thing going on and I just broke that, but I was moving my sister in college over the weekend. She's a freshman. I'm super proud of her! Anyways, the next chapter looks really amazing and I'm very happy with it if that gives you some encouragement.**

**Recap: Tori, jealous and wanting to know who the new girl is, asks Carly to dig up some information. She finds out her name is Jade West, likes scissors, is a Gemini, went to Hollywood Arts, and won a national writing competition. She looks up the play, "The Sunflower Sundress" which was about a girl named Ruby who hallucinated about her dead girlfriend, eventually driving her to commit suicide to join her.**

Lights Will Guide You Home

"I haven't heard from you in awhile," says Oliver as he takes a seat at the table, pulling the gray beanie off his head.

"It's been a couple of days," I deadpan. It's not like we haven't talked in a month.

"That's a long time," Oliver reiterates.

"You have horrible hat hair," I reply, changing the subject.

"Fuck you," he replies with a pleasant smile on his face. "And for your information, girls love the hat hair." I snort. Sure, believe what you will.

"The hat hair looks stupid," I reply.

"The hat hair looks casually messy," he replies, running his fingers through his hair.

"You're going to have more hair than me soon," I note.

"Well, I'm not getting it cut," he replies. I stick my tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes. "Mature Jade."

"More than you, asshole." Both of us smile and begin laughing. I've been a little nervous that things might end up different between us since I switched schools, but we fall back into our little comfortable niche just as easily as before. I can tell he's relieved too.

"So," he leans in seriously, "Why did you call me here to this little cafe?"

"I can't just hang out with a friend? I have to have some ulterior motive?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow up.

"You? Yes."

I chuckle. This boy might know me a little too well for his own good. "That's true."

"So, what is it?" he asks like an excited puppy dog. "I see you have your messenger bag on you." His eyes focus in on the tan messenger bag hanging on the side of my chair.

"I have. And?"

"You only use that messenger bag for carrying around whatever you're writing. I haven't seen that thing in months."

"I could just be using it to carry something around. Bags don't have specifically designed purposes other than to just carry things," I retort, stringing him along. We both know exactly what's in this bag.

"You wouldn't do that," Oliver replied. "We both know that bag's not going to carry anything other than play scripts."

**Fix You**

_ The sound of a ringing phone wakes me up. I lean over and check my phone to see who it is._

_From Cristina: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY!_

_Underneath is a picture of a cake that says "Happy Birthday Jade" on it. A smile lights up my face. I don't want to smile, but I just can't help it. Everything about her makes me smile. Just at the thought of her, I can barely contain myself._

_To Cristina: Thanks babe. So, where's my birthday present?_

_From Cristina: Am I not enough? she teases._

_To Cristina: You're the only thing that was on my birthday list._

_From Cristina: Well in that case, take a shower and eat a big breakfast. You're going to be having a very long night ;)_

_I laugh as I rush to kick off the covers and rush into the shower. There's no way I'm missing out on that._

_When I arrive at her place I ring the doorbell, not missing a beat. I've made sure I look really hot so when she opens the door she can't resist me. Unfortunately, the only person who opens her door is her balding father. Trying to hide my despondency, I put on a fake, parent-pleasing smile and greet him._

"_Hello Jade, happy birthday!" he responds. Cristina's parents had always loved me. They were more concerned with their baby girl being happy than her sexual orientation. I made her happy, so they didn't care I was a girl._

"_Thank you, sir. Do you know if Cristina is home?" I ask eagerly._

_He chuckles. "She's not actually, but she told me to give you this." He walks a little ways into the house and comes back with a gift-wrapped box. "She said you should open it and read the card."_

"_Thanks sir," I say, taking the box. "Have a good day."_

"_You too!" He closes the door with a smile as I walk away. I look down at the card._

_**Hey baby,**_

_** Sorry I wasn't there to greet you good morning but I have special plans in mind for you! Today, we're going to have a scavenger hunt. So, you don't get to see me until you complete your hunt! You're always saying how you need something to carry your scripts in, so inside is something to help with that.**_

_**Next Clue: Our first date.**_

_ I smile and laugh. Of course she would do this. I get into my car and begin opening the box. Inside is a simple tan messenger bag that's absolutely perfect for carrying around my scripts and other materials I need to write them._

_ No doubt in my mind I'm in love with this girl._

**Fix You**

I smile at the memory. God, she had me going around the entire state for that scavenger hunt. But the endpoint was all worth it. It was a surprise party at her house (easy access to the bedroom after) and she gave me the most beautiful necklace as my last gift.

"So what got you into this mood? I haven't seen you smile in ages," Oliver says.

"I smile!" I argue. I haven't smiled in months.

"Jade, just show me what's in the bag," he responds. I sigh begrudgingly (but really can't wait to show it to him) and hand him my newest script.

He takes the script, reading the title, and sends me a look like, 'Who is Tori?' I just smile mysteriously as I take a sip of my coffee and look out the window, waiting for him to read it.

It feels weird. As soon as I saw Tori, it's like I came back to life. Something about her just… turns me on. Not just sexually. It goes far beyond that. No, something about her inspired me. It was the power behind her stare and the way her voice sounds like the most beautiful melody in the world no matter what she's saying. And it's the way her eyes have seen darkness. There's something about her entire being that draws me in, something indescribable. It's something that, for the first time, can't be described in words.

She's my new muse. It doesn't mean that I want to date her necessarily. My heart still belongs to Cristina even in death, as it always will. But she gives me something to live for. She's my inspiration. Everything about me now depends on her, in some ways. She is my reason to be now. I am a writer. What am I without writing? And what is a writer without a muse?

I sit there, pondering the fate of things (as I have been since Cristina's death) and what kinds of errors I may have made in the script I just gave Oliver as he reads it.

After a couple minutes he looks up, "That was… amazing," he says. He leans back, tipping, in his chair, hands behind his head, as he lets out a whistle. "So my best friend has finally returned?"

"Asshole," I mutter at him as I kick him under the table. All four legs of his chair drop back onto the floor with a loud thud as he loses his balance. In that moment though, I realize exactly what I'd done to him all these months. I'd been drowning so far in my depression I couldn't even remember what the light looked like, what it felt to breathe fresh air. I hadn't realized the damage I'd done to everybody standing on the surface, calling my name. I had lost Cristina. Beck had lost me. Everybody had lost me. I had lost me.

I stare down at the script. Tori. Maybe she was the key to finding what was lost.

"So, who is Tori?" Oliver asks with a giant grin on his face.

"She's this girl who goes to Sherwood," I reply. I want to tell him all about her. I want to tell her everything I know, but then I realize, I know practically nothing about her. And almost everything I have to say, he'd probably see in a bad light. He can't see her the way I can.

He looks at me expectantly. "And…?"

I sigh with a small smile on my face. "She's… amazing. She's beautiful. She's fierce. She…" I don't know how to say everything I want to say. Everything I need to say.

"Sounds like somebody has a crush," Oliver teases.

"I don't!" I practically scream out at him, drawing a few eyes from the rest of the café. "She's just… overwhelming. But we know who my heart will always belong to." I avoid saying her name.

"Okay," Beck accepts. "So, how do you know her?"

"She… um… Well, her boyfriend was flirting with me and she came and yelled at me for flirting with him," I say really quickly. I know how bad it sounds and Ollie is going to judge, but I'm really hoping he won't.

"She sounds like a bitch to me," Oliver says judgmentally.

"You don't know her, okay!" I defend. But then again, neither do I. I don't know anything about her other than her name and her boyfriend and that she's the most popular girl in school of course.

"I don't need to know her. She sounds like you're typical Queen Bitch Bully. Am I wrong?" he says with a challenge in his voice.

"Well… No," I admit. "But there's more to her than that." Who am I to say that? I don't know her. She could just be horrible. But there's something about her that says she's seen pain. I can see how much darkness she's seen and I know there's more to her than what is on the surface… Is there?

"Sure, whatever," Oliver says with an eye roll and a disbelieving snort. "Look, I'm just glad you're writing again."

"So am I," I reply.

For the rest of the hour we just sit there and talk. I tell him about Cat, the girl with the optimism of a newborn baby and the hair the color of blood, and Andre, the dark skinned boy with dreads who actually seemed pretty cool despite his mental patient sidekick. He told me about Haley and Tara, terrorizing Hollywood Arts with their demands to sing lead (even though everybody knows they suck and only got in because their daddies donated a whole bunch of money to the school).

Eventually it becomes late and we both agree we should go home. We both rise from our seats, I grab my bag, and the two of us embrace in a hug. As our limbs disconnect Oliver looks at me seriously, "Jade," he says warningly.

"Yes?"

"Be careful with this girl, okay?"

"Yeah."

"I miss you."

"Yeah," I say with a noncommittal shrug. He understands. I've never really been good with my own words when I have to say them in person. When I can say them from behind a screen they just flow out of my mouth and onto paper like perfection, but saying it out loud for me is impossible. But he understands. In that yeah I mean that I miss him and love him too.

"Later Jade."

**I'm sorry that this was short and sort of filler-ish, but I promise next chapter will probably end up being on the longer end and have a lot more going on in it.**


	6. You Couldn't Stop If You Tried It

**I should've said this earlier but I'd like to apologize for any bad language (retard, dyke, etc) or horrible thoughts in this. I only say it because it's a part of my characters. I'm actually super against these words.**

**Also the video game part might seem a little bit boring, but it's actually sort of important for understanding the way Tori thinks.**

**Recap: Jade and Beck meet up at a little coffee shop where she shows him the new script he's working on: Tori. She doesn't necessarily want to date Tori, but Tori is her new muse. Beck warns her that Tori sounds like your typical Queen Bitch and to be careful of getting hurt.**

**You Couldn't Stop If You Tried It**

I calmly shift gears and put my car into park outside of Ryder's house. I close my eyes and take a deep breath for a second. It's all about control. It's all about staying in control and making him bend to me, not the other way around. That's what I have to tell myself every time I go to school or see my boyfriend or my friends. Don't lose yourself, Tori.

I reach for the cold metal on the side of my door and open it up. I walk quickly with purpose towards the door and ring the doorbell once. I wait patiently as his mother answers the door. She gives me a wide smile and pulls me into a hug. "Victoria!" she says elatedly. It feels weird to be hugged. I mean, I hug Ryder sometimes, but it's different. We hug because I know later he expects a whole lot more. Mrs. Daniels just cares about me. I let myself get enveloped in the warmth of her hug, the feeling that maybe someone might actually care about me, for the fleeting moment she holds me in my arms.

Then she pulls away and I'm cold again. I'm just a person using her son for status the same way he's using me. I pull myself together and put on my impassive mask for the rest of the world to see. My walls that might've felt a little crack in them repair themselves and I put on a fake smile, the kind you give to all adults so they think you're in angel so you can get away with anything behind their backs. "Hello Mrs. Daniels," I say.

"It's so good to see you, Victoria!" she says happily. She looks over her shoulder, turning to the stairs to scream out, "Ryder, Victoria is here!" She turns back to me, grinning. "Do you want something to eat or drink, darling?"

"No thank you," I reply anxiously waiting for Ryder to come down. I don't want to keep standing here with her hopeful eyes and kind smile drilling into me. I begin to question her, looking her up and down inconspicuously from the corner of my eye.

She's the quintessential mother, dressed up in an apron and hair back in an age-acceptable braid and a giant smile on her face. I begin to asses her, looking for faults and flaws and lies. I look deep into her eyes, waiting to find that hint of black, that hint of evil that tells me she's lying because I know she has to be.

Before I can inevitably find it, Ryder comes down the stairs. He sends me a smile and I see the darkness in his eyes immediately. He masks it with the gentle brown eyes he inherited from his mother, but it's there deep in his cornea. "Hey babe," he says.

"Hey Ry," I respond, walking up to her and giving him a chaste kiss. I'd usually make it deeper, but his mom is right there.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, confused but happy to see me.

"I'm visiting my boyfriend of course," I say sweetly, kissing his cheek where a little bit of stubble is because I guess he hasn't shaved yet.

"I'm not complaining," Ryder replies with a smile, leading me upstairs. It's all about making him feel special. He knows exactly how much of a bitch I am, but I'm not a bitch to him. Ever. I treat him like a king and give him everything I can. And if I make myself seem weaker, giving him a kiss on the cheek during a surprise visit like a desperate girlfriend who can't live without her boyfriend, he'll think he has all the power. He'll feel like a big, strong boy and I'll use that ego and confidence of his to my advantage.

Ryder lives on the third floor up in the attic. It's surprisingly helpful for when we have sex. He has his unmade bed pushed up against a wall, a desk for doing his homework nestled into a corner, and two comfortable, relaxing chairs set up in front of a reasonably sized television where his PS2 is.

He takes a seat down in one of his light brown chairs and motions for me to sit next to him. "Babe, you wanna play?" he grabs a remote controller and turns on the television, not really giving me an option.

"Sure," I say with a bright smile. Luckily, I don't mind. I predicted this is what we'd do and this is precisely what I wanted to happen. I take a seat next to him in the chair and grab a game controller from the floor.

"Team Fortress 2?" he asks.

"Obviously," I reply with a big dorky smile. When I started dating Ryder he'd been super into video games, as is the case with most teenaged boys. I avoided them for a while, but eventually realized that I was locking myself out of a huge part of his world.

I had a work up of him in my head. I read and analyzed him, and then I created the book about him in my head. In its essence, I profiled him; same as I do to everyone I meet. I noted every move he made and laugh he took until I could eventually predict his moves and manipulate him. Except, of course, my miniature profile of him as well as parts of our relationship was restricted because I didn't play video games with him. So I started to play Team Fortress 2 with him. It upped our relationship, I knew the intricacies of his head, and I actually found I like playing video games.

He presses the on button and takes us into the Neon Heights server. He sets his character as a pyro. I go as the medic. The pyro is offensive and has automatic fire. He's incredibly hard to stop. This of course, feeds Ryder's ego. It reaffirms that he is, indeed, 'the man.' And I am the lowly assistance. I don't attack. I follow Ryder around, like a lost puppy dog, loyally following him to the death and healing him when he gets into battles.

Normally, I prefer to be the engineer. It's a completely self-sufficient character that can attack, teleport, and heal itself. It doesn't need anyone else. However, today rides of being perceived as weak. Every little detail, everything about me, has to make me appear less than I am.

The two of us run around on the server, annihilating everyone on the other team. I love it. I love the rush. I love the feeling of being completely in control. When I die, I simply re-spawn at the 'home point' and go out to kill more people. I love the feeling of never being able to die. I love how I hold other people's lives in the balance. That's why boys love video games. It's the ultimate show of control and power. You're unstoppable and un-killable in a video game.

The two of us share in some meaningless conversation as we play. Eventually, I find the perfect Segway into what I want to talk about. "You know that girl who was flirting with you yesterday?"

Ryder spares me a glance from his screen, which seriously says something because he never looks away. "Babe, I told you, it's no big deal. You should just drop it."

He looks back at his screen. "No, she needs to know that you're… taken." I almost say mine instead of taken, but it's too dominating and possessive. I need to play this off as jealous girlfriend. He needs to be seen as the dominant possessor.

"Yeah?" he replies absentmindedly as he wastes another player.

"So I was thinking," I say almost absent-mindedly, "You could get the rest of your basketball team to… scare her a little bit."

"Can't you just take her down a peg some other way?" he asks. "Get Carly to spread some rumor about her?" He's not exactly thrilled about using his team to attack some girl (I can hear the little voice in my head telling me he's not thrilled about hurting the girl either). Other than in video games, Ryder is a lover not a fighter. He tends to be the muscle that enforces my rule, but he rarely uses it. He doesn't think it's "good for the team" to bond over violence or whatever.

"No. She needs to know that what she did isn't going to fly. You can't just go after other people's boyfriends." The next part I say with despair in my voice. "And I'm just not strong enough to take her on alone." It sounds really fucking stupid when I say it. I almost pray he doesn't take the bait because who is stupid enough to fall for that line.

But he does. Hook. Line. Sinker. "I'll call the guys. Tell them we've got a problem that needs fixing." He pauses his game and pulls out his cellphone to send a mass text to the team.

"Thanks babe."

"Yeah."

I pause for a moment. "I think I'm going to switch classes and become a scout," I say, referring to the video game. He grunts in acknowledgement. I proceed to practically wipe out the other team. I love the scout. Quick, vicious, offensive, and takes no prisoners.

**Fix You**

I wait anxiously in the hallway for the shy, Goth girl to appear as I sip my ice coffee. Santana and Carly are arguing, again, and I don't know how. I'm practically dying of anticipation for the girl to stroll through the hallways. The buzz has me wired.

And then she walks through the door I smirk as I her face in a couple of minutes. Something about blemishing those perfect features… it gives me a rush. She has on bright red lipstick and she's wearing a tight, gray, long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans with combat boots. She looks unrealistically gorgeous. It isn't fair. She doesn't try. She doesn't try half as hard as I do. And she still looks perfect.

I want to destroy it. I want to destroy her.

There's a little voice in my head telling me not to do this. Nothing good will come out of it. But this desire goes beyond that voice. It's primal. It's urgent. I need this to happen.

She walks to her locker and I can tell she knows something is off. I don't know how she picks up on it, but she does. I let the tension build as we wait for the halls to clear, until only a few kids linger. It's important you have those kids though because they'll spread the rumors about what happened. I'm making an example of her. They're just the messengers.

I nod discreetly as Ryder barrels Jade. He deliberately walks into her, books flying everwhere. I smirk as I stand by the side, watching. "Watch where you're going, bitch!" Ryder yells at her. She leans her head down submissively to pick up her books.

Before she can a couple of the guys come in and kick her books away from her or pick them up and begin lording them over her head. "Looking for these?" they taunt.

And for a moment I feel bad and empty. She looks so helpless, staring at her books and trying in vain to get them back. Smattering her perfection… it doesn't feel as good as I was hoping.'

But then another two guys slam her brutally into the lockers so hard she falls down against them. And she notices me out of the corner of her eye. And she's scared. And she's hurt. And I have all the power. And I feel good. I let the control I have over her consume me.

Normally, I stick to the side. I let the boys have the fun and stay right in the corner of the picture. That way, the person knows exactly who called the hit, but I don't have to get my hands dirty. But this is too good.

I walk straight up to her and slowly take off the cap of my iced coffee and pour it on top of her. She winces. "Remember your place. And don't touch things that aren't yours." I glance over at Ryder. She looks like she desperately wants to say something, but doesn't. "Nobody wants you here, dy…" I trail off. I find the words not able to leave my lips. I want to call her a dyke, but I can't seem to formulate the word.

I falter. I feel the control leaving me in a flood of weakness. And just like that, she holds the power. She doesn't realize it, but she has all the power over me. It fucking scares me. I fumble over my words, quickly trying to cover it up. "J-Just leave." I turn on my heel and walk away from the girl on the floor, hoping to God nobody can see how broken I am right now.

**Fix You**

I can feel his deep breathes and the light inhalation of snoring that tells me he's gone to sleep. I quietly slip out of bed and head to my bathroom. His parents think he's on a sleepover with some of his guy friends. My dad is rarely home. He'll never notice a boy here. He barely even notices I'm here anymore.

As I go to the bathroom I think about earlier today. Why hadn't I been able to say **it**? I couldn't even **think** the word anymore.

I had lost control. Something about her unravels me at the seams.

**AN: Hey guys! What'd you think? I really liked this chapter. I'd like to thank each and every one of you for your reviews, favorites, and follows because believe it or not they mean a great deal to me.**

**I go back to school on Wednesday (Sep 3) so updating might become a little more difficult, but I completely plan to see this through! I'm also really excited about next chapter. It's looking potentially promising.**


	7. When U Get What U Want, Not What U Need

**I realized I usually do recaps on my stories so that you guys can remember what happened last chapter. I'll go back and put them in.**

**Recap: Tori went over to Ryder's house to manipulate him into helping her bully Jade. He and his basketball team throw Jade up against the lockers and steal away her books and Tori stands by, watching, only participating at the very end when she tells Jade to leave and means to call her a dyke but can't find it in herself to say it.**

When You Get What You Want, But Not What You Need

I walk calmly into the bathroom as Tori and her gang walk away, laughing merrily to class. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes. There's no stopping them, but there is delaying. After the hours and hours I cried over Cristina, I learned taking deep, slow breaths controls your tears for long enough for you to go somewhere private to cry.

As soon as I enter the bathroom I let them fall as they may. The tears flow down my face and I try hard to breathe. As one slips into my mouth I realize it tastes like iced coffee. It makes me feel even more miserable about myself and I cry even harder as more iced-coffee flavored tears drip into my mouth.

I look in the mirror. It looks so familiar to cry, yet so foreign. For months I cried my eyes out until I forgot what it looked like—felt like—not to be crying. Then one day, I just stopped. I just turned numb to the world and didn't have another tear to drop. Until now.

I grab for some paper towels, wiping my tears off my face as I recall the event. The feeling of being thrown against the lockers runs through my mind as I suddenly become highly aware of my aching arm. My other hand instinctively goes to grab it, thinking that touching it may help quell the pain. It doesn't.

I begin to strip out of my jacket and my tank top, which got most of the downpour. My pants were, thankfully, only blotched with iced coffee here and there. They were dry enough to keep on and the stains would blend into the blackness.

Unfortunately, the physical pain is the least of my worries. Betrayal. She turned on me, my muse. She just watched as the physically assaulted me. I could tell from the way she stared at me, her eyes boring into me so strongly I could feel it even when I looked away, she had been the one to call the hit.

I sigh as I wring out my tank top, playing the scene over in my mind. _"Remember your place,"_ the words repeat in my head. _"And don't touch things that aren't yours."_ Each word stings worse than the last. _"Nobody wants you here, dy…"_ Her voice fades off for a moment before coming back. _"Just leave."_

I furrow my eyebrows. My memory must be deceiving me. I'm a writer. It's my job to be able to get into other people's heads and perspectives. It's my job to understand everything about everyone and be able to put it into words so other people can understand them too.

She's the typical Queen Bee. She thrives on power and control. Everyone is beneath her. She doesn't fail. She doesn't show weakness. And she certainly doesn't falter.

But she did. I replay the memory in my head. I know I remembered it correctly. She wanted to say something that began with a d. But she couldn't. I recall the lock in her eyes, which I had been too in pain to notice before. She was… lost. Something happened to her in that moment and she was unable to say it. She showed a weakness, whether or not she meant it, to me. She offered her own vulnerability to me in my time of need.

That had to mean something.

With renewed vigor, I wipe away the tears, wash down my face, reapply my mascara, and put my clothes back on. There's something about her in that moment of loss, of vulnerability that draws me back into the hurricane that is Tori. I just can't escape her. This makes me even more determined to find the eye of her hurricane.

**Fix You**

"I want you guys to shout out one line of your current favorite song," says my English teacher, Mr. Sullivan. I began staring at him. What does this have to do with English class? What game is he playing? I squint my eyes at him, hoping the new perspective will reveal his ulterior motive.

The class, excited that this isn't shaping up to be the typical English class, begins shouting out answers. "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hun!" I snort.

Surprisingly, Sullivan doesn't say anything but writes the lyric up on the board, making the hormonal teenaged boys snigger with satisfaction. Another girl calls out, "Baby, you're a firework!" I roll my eyes at the girl's lack of originality. Don't get me wrong, I deeply admire the Katy Perry song, but it's… such a typical, cheesy try-hard choice.

"It's just your typical, hardcore casual sex!" Another guy yells out, trying to impress his friends and see how far he can push Sullivan before he gives in. Sullivan is a pretty chill guy though and writes it up on the board.

He takes a few more suggestions before I hear a voice call out, "Try not to mistake what you have with what you hate." Sullivan writes it down along with the rest. Nobody else really seems to take note of the song lyric that just went up on the board except me apparently.

I glance over at the girl at the girl who said it. Tori. I block everybody else out as I stare intently at her. I wonder if they realize how rare she is, how amazing she is. Even as I think it I feel stupid, but what she said rocks me to the core. It gleams out from the darkness in ways I can't explain. I begin to twirl the idea around in my mind like one twirls a piece of string through their fingers.

After a couple more minutes Sullivan stops taking requests and explains why he asked us to do this. "I want you to take your favorite song lyric in the world and let it inspire you. I want you to write a short story or vignette revolving around that lyric. At the top of the page I want you to write down your lyric."

I hear a couple of people groan, disappointed this had actually led to a real assignment, but most people were simply excited.

I open my notebook and look down at the blank piece of lined paper and write down, "There is no upper hand I'm giving you mine."

I begin writing, fading away from reality and falling back into my memories of Cristina, all the passion we shared, and the now-filled spaces in between the lines of the paper.

"There is no upper hand I'm giving you mine."

_Ruby climbed the steps of the chipped, concrete steps to her girlfriend's house. The box in her pocket seemed to weigh her down considerably as she walked. She hoped Caroline would like it. It was a silver pendant with the words "Irrevocably." _

_The raven-haired girl remembers the day they were just hanging out at the beach, like any other day, and began talking about their favorite words. Hers had been paradox. Caroline's was irrevocably. They got in this huge debate about which one was better. Caroline won of course. Ruby would lose against her every time she never could stand up to Caroline's pouty face. Ever since then it's silently been their thing. Irrevocably: unable to be changed. Just like them. _

_ Ruby, about to knock on the door, looks down and realizes that it's already open. Cautiously, she walks in and calls out for her girlfriend. "Caroline?" Nothing appeared to be out of place, but Ruby could sense something was off._

_ She reached into her boot and pulled out the pair of scissors she always kept on hand. The odd pale girl always had a morbid obsession with scissors—her weapon of choice. She slowly creaked across the floor, wondering perhaps if someone broke in._

_ She made her way into Ruby's room where she heard the sound of running water. Ruby slips the scissors back into her boot and carefully goes to knock on the door she assumes her girlfriend is behind. "Hey babe, need any company?" she calls out. She begins to strip out of her t-shirt, knowing Caroline would never refuse the invitation._

_ Oddly enough, she didn't hear a response. The spray of the water must be too loud, she mused, and she can't hear me. She knocked hard on the door and called out again, "Caroline!"_

_ No response._

_ This, of course, troubled the now half-naked girl. She knew her girlfriend well and this was just, well, odd. Deciding to ignore is she waited for a moment, deciding to flounce onto her bed and wait._

_ It had been a couple of minutes and still nothing. Ruby had ben listening intently, waiting for her girlfriend to come out, but beyond the water she hadn't heard a single thing. She hadn't heard a note being sung or a curse that she dropped the shampoo again, something Caroline always ended up doing._

_ Ruby rose from the bed and knocked again, putting an ear to the door. "Caroline?" she called out. No response._

_ Now she was worried. She reached for the handle to open the door, but it was locked. Caroline never locked her doors. She believed that everything should be open and locks were just an unhealthy way of keeping people out._

_ A sense of fear filled the blue-eyed girl. She assumed the worst. No… Caroline would never. Caroline was happy. Caroline wouldn't ever leave her by choice. She'd never leave her life. She'd never leave her family to pick up the pieces. She loved with her whole heart. She could never leave so many people in pain._

_Ruby began yelling through the door, jiggling the doorknob in vain hope. "Caroline! Caroline, open the door!" She began heaving her weight against the door._

_ But then Ruby begins to think. Maybe that was the point. She loved so much that it began to hurt. That everything in the world, every shred of darkness that had ever touched the poor young girl had broken her down over the years. Maybe she couldn't bear the pain anymore._

_ After a minute the door gave way to the panicking girl. Inside was a sight she had not been ready for._

_ The love of her life, thick brunette hair floating and surrounding her head like a halo, was lying face up in a bath tub, eyes closed and probably drowning as the once translucent water turned into a thick red blood._

_ She ran into the bathtub, dragging the now potentially dead brunette up to the surface and grabbing some towels and applying pressure to her wrists. She quickly reaches for her phone in her back pocket, urgently calling 911. As the call ended she joins the girl in the tub, sitting down behind her and supporting her weight. _

_ "Don't you dare die on me, Caroline! I will never forgive you if you die on me. You have to keep living. You have so much to live for. I love you so damn much. Don't you go dying on me now or I swear to God I'll kill you myself!" the girl collapses into tears as she grips Caroline's wrists even tighter, partly to stop the bleeding and because she needed something to keep her here, keep her holding onto reality and from going insane. "Please hold on, for me."_

_ The paramedics came what seemed like far too late and rolled the girl out onto a stretcher, rushing her to the hospital. Ruby didn't let go of her hand for one second of the ride in the ambulance. She held on tight, hoping to give her Caroline all of her strength through that one clenching handhold._

_ Hours later, having had to let go of her hand as they brought Caroline behind the swinging doors she could not cross upon arrival, a surgeon came out to give Jade and the girls' family the news. She had survived._

The sound of the school bell ringing shocked me out of my writing. I could feel a cold, wet tear dripping down my face, which I quickly wiped away. For a moment, I had fallen so deeply into my writing she was alive. I had been there and I had saved her. For a moment, she was alive.

And now she's gone again, ripped away for a second time. I rush over and place my paper on Sullivan's desk before running out of the classroom and into the girl's bathroom to cry.

**Fix You**

"Jade?" I head Cat ask tentatively as she enters the girls' bathroom. I wipe away the tears with a rough paper towel against my face.

"Hey Cat," I reply. I want to ask what she's doing here. Why is she looking for me? But I don't.

"Why are you crying?" Why do you care?

"No reason."

I know she wants to know why and help somehow, but she doesn't pester me further about the why. "Sometimes people cry because they're happy," she remarks, looking off in the distance like she's on another planet. "Are you crying because you're happy?"

"No."

"Well… how can I make you happy?"

"Leave." I don't mean for it to sound so venomous and harsh. I just… I don't want to cry in front of her. I can't have her seeing me fall apart like this.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says. She walks up and hugs me. I stiffen immediately, the feeling completely foreign. It's such an odd feeling, being held in somebody's arms. I feel the urge to fall apart in her arms and cry, but I can't.

And then, just like that, she let's go and walks out of the bathroom.

I stare after her and begin to wonder how I got so lucky. I pray to everything, even the God I don't believe in anymore, that Cat truly means what she said. I couldn't bear to lose anybody else I love.

**Fix You**

"Jade," I hear Mr. Sullivan call down from the hallway. I try to walk a little bit faster. I don't want to talk to him right now. It's the end of the day and I just want to go home. "Jade please stop!" he calls out.

I walk faster.

"Ms. West!" he says with an oddly authoritative voice that doesn't suit him. I stop in my tracks.

"Mr. Sullivan," I reply in a monotone, dead voice. He smiles a big nerdy smile and pushes his glasses up upon the ridge of his nose, for they had slipped down almost to this mouth.

"I was just reading what you handed in today, "There is no upper hand I'm giving you mine." I nod. "What song is that from?"

"Okay by Backhouse Mike."

He smiles and nods like he knows who that is. I doubt he's heard anything on the radio since The Beatles. "This was an amazing piece, absolutely breathtaking."

"Thanks." I say tersely, hoping he gets it through his head I don't want to be talking to him.

"So there's this writing competition, it's a school wide thing so the size is big, but not like state wide intimidating," he reassures me.

"Look, I don't really have any interest in submitting that piece," I say.

"I think you should," he rebounds. "It's amazing and it deserves to be shared."  
"It's not something I want to share," I reply with a raised eyebrow, daring him to challenge me.

He fumbles for a second. "Well, you can always submit something else. You're a very talented writer Jade. Don't let your talent go to waste."

"I'll think about it," I lie, honestly just wanting this conversation to be over.

**Fix You**

"… And in other news," the nasally voice of the student-body president rings all throughout the school, "the winners of the school wide writing competition have been decided."

I stab my salad with my fork, not particularly listening to these stupid school broadcasts. "In third place we have 'The Silver Bucket' by Mike Chang. Silver Bucket? I begin to muse over the curious title, wondering what his story might be about. Silver is a precious metal, but it also represents second place and buckets can be associated with a bucket list. I begin to ponder the infinite possibilities of what "The Silver Bucket" could be about.

"In second place we have 'Have and Hate' by Tori Vega." My ears perk up at the sound of her name. She won second place for the writing competition! I didn't know she was a writer too.

The more I learn about this girl, the more I fall in love with her.

I begin to wonder about all the possibilities, what this could mean. Is English her best subject? Does she like English? Did she just submit because she was feeling bored? Is she going to college for an English major? Would we go to the same college? Is she just one of those girls whose good at everything?

I wonder what 'Have and Hate' is about. Is it a work off pure fiction? Did she write an analytical essay describing the culture of today's overly materialistic society? Is it based off of her own personal experiences? All of these questions bubbled to the forefront of my mind. It was like, for every fact I learned about her, I had a thousand more questions. And I just wanted to know everything about her.

It makes me feel… uncomfortable in some ways. After feeling so dead, it's weird to come back and feel more alive than ever.

"And finally, in first place, is 'There Is No Upper Hand I'm Giving You Mine,' by Jade West!"

Did they just…

My name?

I'm caught in a whirlwind of shock as Andre and Cat congratulate me, not even knowing I had submitted anything. Still stuck in a state of disbelieving, I mindlessly clear my tray and walk away from their enthusiastic yay's and congratulation's. I appreciate a compliment, but I never really know how to accept them. They're nice to hear, but awkward.

I walk straight towards the library. Only the people who are actually enthusiastic and like school are ever in there and they're too busy studying to ever notice you so it's nice. It's like my own little private hiding place.

As I make my way to the library I smell a familiar scent. Vanilla. Tori. "Tori," I say as I turn around, the only ray of sunlight in this day so far.

"You stole my award!" she says shrilly. I stare at her for a moment. Everything about her body language screams hostile, but within is stands insecurity. Leaking out through her, she stands insecurely.

"What… What are you talking about?"

She steps closer. She's only inches away from my face. My eyes flicker to her lips that are almost close enough to touch. I shake my head. My heart will forever belong to Cristina. Tori is just a muse. "Every year I win that award, until you came in that is."

"I…" For a writer, I find myself with an astounding lack of things to say.

"Shut up," she cuts me off. "Nobody wants you here. You should go back to your little special school for the retarded and get out because every day that you stay here I promise to make your life a living hell!"

And then I feel it. It's cold and wet and disgusting as it covers the middle of my face. She just spit on me! And just like that, she turns on her heel and leaves me helpless, staring at the dust that moves as she does through my slightly spit-skewed vision.

**Fix You**

** I apologize for the late update, school has started up again and so it's the updates are definitely going to get more sparse, but this story does hold a dear place in my heart so know that I will never just leave it hanging, no matter how long it takes for me to update. **

**I've endured my first couple of days of school and it's been rough. The teachers are good, but the classes themselves aren't and I have very few with friends and it's definitely rocky, but I'm hopeful.**

** Once again, thank you for every favorite, follow, and review! You should definitely review some more because reviews feed me and when I'm well fed I update.**


	8. Hear a Voice Saying Please Dont Hurt Me

**Recap: After having iced tea dumped on her, Jade struggles with her feelings for Tori, her muse having destroyed and turned on her. Still, she soldiers on. She then writes a fictional story for English class where she finds her Cristina, wrists slashed and drowning, in a bathtub. In this story, though, she lives. She later wins the school wide running, beating out Tori, who then tracks her down and spits on her.**

I Hear A Voice Saying, "Please Don't Hurt Me"

When I was five I tripped and fell. I had been wearing this bright yellow dress that had flared out at the ends a little bit. It was back when I could wear whatever I wanted and didn't have to worry about being sexually appealing or having breasts.

Jaime Alexander had been my best friend at the time, back when I was full of innocence. We played with Tinker Toys, he'd always wanted to be an architect, and the Barbie dolls under my bed (he wasn't so fond of that activity). He would call out the girls he had thought were attractive. He had quite the thing for Amelia in the first grade. I'd respond whether I thought she was pretty too or not. Then I'd say the guys I thought were attractive and he'd say whether or not they were as well. I bet he grew up to be a much better person than I am, I think bitterly.

Anyways, I was at Jaime's birthday party. We had been running around playing tag. Some boy I don't even remember was it and he had been chasing me. I can still remember the out-of-breath feeling from laughing and running at the same time. I was running like the wind, or so it felt, when I tripped.

I looked down. The pavement wasn't the same level as the grass. It all happened in a rush and I reflexively stuck my hands out. But my stubby little arms did little to catch me. I could feel my knee hit the pavement. It was a splitting pain. The boy stopped chasing me and went to pursue another target as parents surrounded me.

All I remember thinking, as I sat up and stared at the wound, was that it felt good. It was hurting like hell, I could practically feel the wound throbbing as a small river of blood flowed down my leg, but it was almost nice. I looked at it, fascinated. I didn't accept the giant Band-Aid's they tried to put on it.

When Jaime asked about it the next day I showed it to him. I asked him to touch it, flinching at the pain when he did, but still… it felt good. I told him that. He told me I must be a superhero.

**Fix You**

She is out to get me. Ever since I dumped my coffee on her she's had it out for me. There's no way she'd simply forgive me for that. No. Her anger has been burning – raging – ever since then. Most of the mindless idiots of this school would keep their heads down low after I'd shown them who runs this school, but she's different.

She thinks that because she's seen pain before she can handle what I'm going to bring to her. She thinks she has what it takes to stop me. I've never heard of something so wrong.

I became head bitch of this school for a reason. I learned quickly that you don't get anything but used and rolled over if you're nice. You have to be cold and ruthless if you want anything in this world. More importantly, you have to be able to do so and never look back. I've had a lot of practice. It's how I've gotten everything good in my life. She's outmatched and outclassed.

**Fix You**

When I was nine years old, things around the house started changing. My mom and dad started fighting. At first it was fine, just the usual squabble that resulted in raised voices and a loving kiss in the end to patch it all up. My sister and I would always make faces at seeing them kiss, but we were still happy. We knew it meant the end and things were okay.

Then, things changed.

It all started with the fight that didn't end with a kiss. We waited two hours for him to appear. Dad had come home late again from a lot of extra paperwork at the station. My mom was pissed off that he hadn't even bothered to text her. We ate dinner in tense and uncomfortable silence as they questioned Trina and I about our days. We both responded, but we could sense the tension between the two of them. We expected them to scream, get it out, and kiss. But they didn't. The dinner ended and mom went up to her room and dad stayed downstairs and watched the game on TV.

The next night everything was fine. They were laughing and joking with each other. We were a happy family of four again.

**Fix You**

I've grown up on fighting for the last couple of years. I know how it sounds, how it feels, what it looks like, what it smells like, and even what it tastes like. It sounds like two parents screaming at each other so loudly you can hear it from the other side of the house with you speaker system up as high as it goes. It feels like your friend slapping you hard across the face for betraying them for the last time. It looks like your boyfriend slamming the door in your face. It smells like alcohol on your sister's breath. It tastes like your usual iced coffee.

Jade has no idea what she's in for. She wants a fight? I'll give her a fight. I'll make it so the only thing she hears is the sound of a thousand voices in the school hallway calling out 'loser' and 'slut.' I'll make it so the only thing she feels is crippling depression. I want her to spin so out of control she changes schools, changes names. I want her to see only tears in her eyes. The only smell that will invade her senses is the haunting of my perfume ever present. She will taste blood.

**Fix You**

When I was ten years old we ate dinner without my dad.

**Fix You**

She thinks she's special. I can see it in her blue eyes. She's resilient and defiant. It's like she stares at me and she can see straight through me. It's like my walls don't even exist, or maybe she just has impeccable X-Ray vision. I can feel all of my insecurities showing them to her like she's drawing them out of me. But I've been hiding them for years. I could probably get a Major in hiding your feelings. I'm just being paranoid. But still… something about her disgruntles me.

I can deal with pain.

But what she does… Is nothing of the sort.

**Fix You**

When I was eleven my father came home early from work in order to surprise my mother. They'd been rocky lately, visiting a marriage councilor and all. He was really making an extra effort to make her feel special and loved. He had bought her thirteen roses. It was an inside joke. They met on the thirteenth. They got married on the thirteenth. Trina was born on the thirteenth. Her wedding ring, by accident, even had thirteen diamonds on it.

My dad, or so I was later told by my sister, went upstairs to go find mom. He found her in bed with his partner on the police force, Gary.

I was eleven, just at the cusp of sexual awareness, so I didn't understand why this was so horrible. They were just sharing a bed. What's wrong with that? Trina told me to trust her: it was bad.

I still remember picking up the thirteen red roses, strewn across the ground, a forgotten mess that could never be fixed.

**Fix You**

The sound of my cellphone ringing pulls me out of my stupor. I consider not answering it. I'm not really in the mood. But then I consider who it could be. It could be Carly or Santana or Ryder. If I blow them off, suddenly I'll be the bitch that didn't answer her phone last night. Everything I do, no matter how small, matters. They'll care.

So I sigh and spring off of the couch and towards the kitchen counter where I left my phone. I begin to wonder what the call is about. What mundane thing has one of them called me over? Did Carly smoke too much last night and I'm getting an 'I'm-high' call? Does Ryder need another cheerleader to watch him kick ass at basketball or video games?

An overwhelming sense of tiredness comes over me. I'm sick of listening to other people complain about such idiocy. I want someone to hear me calling for help. I want somebody to listen to my drunken calls or be my cheerleader. I scoff. Hopeful thinking.

As I reach the phone I glance down at the contact name. Mom.

**Fix You**

She was wearing a tight, white dress that barely seemed to reach mid-thigh. Her hair was up in a tight bun and she looked 18, not 15. She was wearing dark red lipstick and heavy eye makeup.

I can still feel the soft fingers of my sister kneading their way through my hair as she did me up. She said that we needed to look our best as she forced me into my nicest floral print dress.

My sister and I hadn't always gotten along, but that certainly changed once mom moved out. She was still selfishly self-centered, but she was also all I had left. Mom was pulling me in one direction and dad in the other. Trina wasn't forcing me to choose either way. She just held my hand through it all. She became my rock.

"Why do we have to keep going to these?" I asked as I stared at myself in the mirror, Trina busily looking down at my hair. I looked so innocent and naïve back then. I was an idiot.

"Because we're underage and the courts have to decide who we're going to live with now," Trina responded.

"But I know who I want to live with," I argued.

"It isn't up to you, Tori. Stay still and shut up or I'm going to mess up!" she berated.

I stayed still and shut up for the next three years.

***Fix You**

"Hi," I say. I barely recognize my own voice. I meant to sound strong, skeptical, like I was never going to let that woman back into my life. Instead, I sounded weak. I could hear the one-syllable word already getting caught in my throat.

"Hey sweetie," she replies in that fake voice of hers that throws me back to when I was a devastated, conflicted ten year old who didn't know who they were.

I want to tell her off. I want to growl at her, say she can't call me that anymore. She lost that right when she stopped fighting for Trina and I. I want to hang up the phone. I almost do… almost. "Why are you calling?" I try to make it sound cold, hostile, but it just sounds broken.

"I wanted to check in on you. You're still my baby," she coos into the phone.

**Fix You**

"What!?" I cry out.

Trina runs up and confronts her. "WHAT!"

"I'm so sorry," she apologizes, tears in her eyes. Trina scoffs and storms away from her to the other side of the room. "I just can't afford to keep paying a lawyer for custody over you too."

"That's bullshit mom!"

"Trina! Not in front of your sister," Mom yells out appalled.

Trina dismisses her easily. "Still trying to be a good mother? I think you lost that right."

"I am still your mother young lady!"

"Yeah, you'll just be moving across the country and buying a fancy new house. Clearly, you don't have the money to pay for us – your only daughters – anymore! I'm sure Gary is thrilled he doesn't have to deal with us!"

"Trina! He has nothing to do with this! It's just – " she falters.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah sweetie?" Her attention turns back on me.

"Do you still love us?"

A smile breaks out onto her face as she envelops Trina and I into her arms. "Of course I do. You two are my babies."

**Fix You**

"Yeah," I rely noncommittally.

"So, how has school been? Still making honor roll?"

"Yea, of course," I reply. Of course she checks in on my grades. That's all she's really calling for. I should've known. She just wants to make sure I'm keeping up my grades so that I'll go to the same college she did so I can follow the dreams she could never accomplish and become some rich, successful lawyer and live the life she never had. She just wants me to be her.

"Good. That's good. Duke only accepts the best of the best and you have to be the best!"

"Yeah."

There's a pause. "You should go to a real school, sweetheart. Drop out of that public school. Gary and I still have enough money to send you to a boarding school," she quips. They have enough money to send me to boarding school, as they've been promising since my freshman year, but didn't have enough money to keep me. I roll my eyes as I fall back on the couch.

"I like my school, mom," I reply, answer the same as ever. "I have friends and I get good marks. You don't need to worry about it."

"And that boyfriend of yours?"

"Yea, he's fine."

She sighs, making sure it's loud enough for me to hear on the other side of the line. "You can do so much better."

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying, darling."

"Stay out of my dating life." Stay out of my life in general. I know as soon as I think that, it's not what I want.

She relents, for once. "And cheerleading, are you still Captain?"

"Yes."

"Good, Duke likes to see extracurricular activities. It'll really put you ahead of everybody else. Trust me, you'll need every leg up you can get," she notes with a superiority in her voice.

"And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?" I seethe into the phone.

"Oh relax dear," she says, playing the dark comment off lightly. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Of course you didn't mom," I snarl back.

"Well… I must go now. My boss is calling me back to work. Can't upset him you know! Love you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, love you too mom," I deadpan. As I hang up the phone I pray that maybe someday I'll say those words to her and I won't mean it. It hurts too much to mean them.

**Fix You**

"Whatever you need, I can provide," replies Nevel, cracking his knuckles as he prepares to hack his little fingers away. "Just remember the price we agreed upon."

"Yeah, of course," I reply, trying not to think of it too much.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to hack into Holly Jane Vega's finances in 2009."

He looks back at me for a moment with a confused look, "Is she your sister or something?"

"My mother," I reply, staring hard at the screen. I need to know…

He shrugs as he begins to type. Within seconds he has all of her data up on the screen. "Here you go. Anything specific you need?"

"No, just send it all to me."

With a few taps on his keyboard he pulls up his mail and sends the information to me. "I assume you don't want her knowing about any of this?"

"You'd assume correctly."

With a few extra CC's and tabs minimized he sends me the information. "Okay. Now, I want my payment."

He was my first kiss.

**Fix You**

I can feel his muscles beneath me. His hard dick penetrates me, going slow and then speeding up so fast. I can feel every pulse of his muscles against my own as I pant above him, riding him. Owning him. Ryder's under my control.

I can feel his cold sperm filling me up, his body giving off spasms. A dreamy look crosses his face as he grins at me like I'm his conquest. I try to climb off of him, but he pulls me down close to him again.

We wait a couple minutes and he stares at me, expectantly. He looks at me hungrily like an animal. I can feel myself losing control. I try to struggle out of his grip, but he's holding tight. He asks me what's wrong and I stop struggling and give up in defeat. Nothing's wrong.

He enters me again. I still haven't come from last time. He fills me up and releases himself again. When he falls asleep I leave.

**Fix You**

According to her financial records my mom had plenty of money from the divorce. She was doing just fine and her joint account with Gary gave her more money than she ever had before with dad. I checked our financials. I did the math. I even asked one of the math nerds to check it for me. I told him it was all a hypothetical problem of course.

I calculated every variable, every possibility. I stayed up night after night doing this in secret after I'd finished all of my homework. I tried different rates for the lawyer. I judged how much, on average, it would cost to keep both Trina and I happy and secure.

She had enough money. Each and every single time she had a surplus of money to keep us all happy. Even if that meant changing off houses every week or shipping us out to Connecticut every month. She had enough money.

She just didn't have enough love.

**Fix You**

The familiarity of the warm, pounding shower water cools me down from the chaos I'm feeling inside. I can feel everything falling apart around me. My stupid mother calls me. That stupid girl wins my award. My boyfriend can't even get me off anymore. I'm barely even attracted to him anymore. My entire life is falling apart at the seams.

I can feel it calling to me.

No. I've put that behind me.

All of this pain could go away in a flash.

I don't need that **thing** anymore.

Yes I do.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

I reach for it with unsteady hands. I need it. I need it.

The intimacy of holding the razor comforts me.

**Fix You**

"Isn't this exciting? You're sister going off to Yale!" Dad is teeming with energy and happiness for Trina as we drive away from Uni to the airport.

"Yeah. Halfway across the country," I reply in my head.

"I'm going to miss her, but there are so many great opportunities for her here!"

She had great opportunities back home. She got into UCLA and Stanford. She had her choice of colleges. She could've gone anywhere. She could've stayed.

"And she got a scholarship!"

There shouldn't be a price tag on love. But then again, I guess that's how things have always seemed to work in this family.

"I think she'll be really happy here!"

But I won't be happy without her.

"Her roommate and her are already getting along. She seemed so nice and welcoming."  
I was her roommate for 10 years before she got her own room in the house. I can't be replaced.

"I guess we're going to have to start buying blue merchandise for her school colors!"

I don't want to buy blue merchandise. I don't want to buy anything to do with Yale. I don't want her to go.

"Aren't you excited for her?"

No. I don't want her to leave. She said she'd never leave. She promised me, the day mom told us she couldn't afford us anymore, that she'd never do that to me. She told me it'd always be us.

"Tori?"

She lied.

"Yeah. Sure dad."

**Fix You**

At first it hurts. It's a searing pain that I just want to stop. But I'm a superhero. I can make it through the pain. I have to defeat the super villains after all.

I cry as I begin to face each on in wrist-to-wrist combat. I think of my stupid father who checked out as soon as mom did, Trina who broke her promise and left me as soon as she could, my mother who never loved me at all, the new girl Jade who seems to see right through me and light me up every time I see her, and my boyfriend who I'm losing control to.

As I imagine each of them I can feel my body decaying, caving in on itself. It's a familiar feeling. Any second now the pain will turn to pleasure. My life won't be a lie anymore. They'll care about me. They will all submit to me. They will never be in control again.

I don't need my mother. I don't need her to love me or want me. I don't need to impress her anymore. I can stop lying to her. I can tell her that it's my life and she doesn't get to control it. I can order that bitch to stop calling me. I don't want her in my life anymore. I can finally tell her what I found all those years ago in her bank account.

I can tell that girl Jade off. She doesn't get to use her X-Ray vision on me. She'll never see through me with those searing green eyes of hers. She'll never see what I'm doing right now. She'll never know. And because of that she'll never get to me. She'll never have power over me. I am the Queen. I rule this school. I've paid the price in tears, sweat, and blood.

Ryder needs me to get off. Not the other way around. He needs me for status. He needs me to be his little cheerleader, his best friend, his trophy, whatever he wants. He needs me and because of that I have the control. He is nothing without me.

I don't need anybody anymore. They all need me. They thought they left me. They thought they abandoned me. No. I left them. They are the ones who need to learn to live without me. I have complete control.

And suddenly, the pain turns to pleasure.

**So, it's been like months… Sorry about that. Not going to lie, I definitely had the time to do this. I've just been lazy and sidetracked and for that I am sorry. I got to a really difficult part in this story, not knowing how to tackle this. And so I just sort of… stopped trying. But eventually (tonight) I just got on my computer and started typing. If it helps, this is an extra long and emotional chapter that finally gives you the insight into the wounded animal we've all been wondering about. **

**Because the school year has started, as you can see, my updates will not be frequent. I will not make false promises of frequency. I can however make the promise I will never give this story up so no matter how long it takes I will update it. I will also (try) to keep the updates at least a little bit more frequent than the practically 3 month long hiatus.**

**Please, review! This was a really cool chapter for me to write and I want to hear your opinions.**


	9. Chapter 9: Could It Be Worse

**I wanted to show that Jade, who experienced a terrible loss by the death of her girlfriend Cristina, became depressed but sort of got over it/is getting over it. She resorted to a healthy cleansing and coping mechanism: writing. Tori on the other hand experienced her parent's divorce and she resorted to the not-so-healthy coping mechanism of cutting. I wanted to show that to cut you don't need some giant, horrible, tragic, unimaginable event to happen to you. It can be as every day as divorces are. And I wanted to show that those horrible and unimaginable tragedies also don't need to result in some horrible form of release like cutting. **

**Anyone can cut.**

**Recap: In a combination of past memories and present events Tori relives her jaded past and how screwed up her present is because of it. Tori's parents divorced around the time she was 11 when her father caught her mother, who was sick of his absence for work, cheating with Gary. Her mother eventually gives up trying to win custody of Tori, which she later finds out is a lie and she simply didn't want to be responsible for her because she didn't love her enough. Her father retreated in on himself. Her sister, as soon as she was of age, went to college across the world in what Tori perceives as another "abandonment." In the present her mother calls to ask how Tori's doing and to subtly convince her daughter to take up her washed up dreams. She sleeps with Ryder to try to sex away the pain, but finds no pleasure. She only finds pleasure when she goes home, grips a razor in her hands, and begins to cut and regain what she deems to be "control" of her life.**

2 Months Later…

Could It Be Worse?

It's surprising what kind of sounds you hear. Once you hear it everything makes sense. But when something is foreign and new you never know what sound to expect. Will it sound like a bang? A thud? A screeeeech? When people spell it out will the sound look like ghghghghghghg or will it be more like yuooshp?

That's why the high-pitched aaaeeee combined with pphhhhcchkkk shocks me when it reaches my ears. It was more than one flat sound that can be thrown onto paper. It was three-dimensional. It echoed throughout the halls, it reverberated through your mind even when it was over; it haunted you until the end of time. It could not be described as simply a screech, a moan, or a wail. It was all of those, but none of them. Uniquely atrocious. It was a screech of terror, a moan of knowing what is to come, and a wail of helplessness.

It takes a couple seconds for my brain to process and catch up to what my other senses are telling me. My ears are ringing from the silence that has taken up the hallway. My eyes only process a streak of red crossing my vision. I smell blood.

The blood reminds me Cristina and I'm hit with an overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness so close to depression I might as well have been considered depressed. But I remember that is not what is happening right now.

Cat needs my help.

I run over to her across the hallway, feeling the pound of my steps and not slowing down until I reach her. She's standing there, silently in shock, cupping her cheek. A singular tear runs down her face. I wrap my arms around her as if by instinct and let her lean on me.

"What the hell?" I spit out at the perpetrator.

"She got in my way and insulted me," they reply casually. "She deserved it."

"Cat wouldn't hurt a fly! You shouldn't have slapped her!"

"She's from the retard farm anyways. She shouldn't even be here in the first place," she replies combatively.

"Don't. You. Dare!"

"You know it's true. Neither of you belong here." A raise of an eyebrow challenges me.

"You are nothing but a heartless bitch who bullies other people in attempt to gain any semblance of control over their own fucked up life!" I scream at Tori.

For once, she looks caught off guard. Her big, brown eyes are open wide in shock. She's never been spoken to like this before. I know I've hit a nerve. She stands there, speechless.

I gather up Cat and we walk away, the victors of this small match. It wasn't worth it. Cat lost a piece of the innocence that makes her such a beautiful person and I lost any of the shattered pieces of a heart that was just beginning to mend.

Have you ever wondered what it sounds like to no longer have a heart in your chest? No gentle beating to remind you that you're alive and well and there's another day tomorrow for you to experience everything life has to offer. It's beyond any heartbreak or losing the 'other half of your soul.' A broken heart can be mended and half a heart can still beat. To have no heart at all, it is to not be alive.

My chest feels hollow.

**Fix You**

"Betrayal of the Heart" by Jade West

She was once something beautiful and good

I thought perhaps together we could be

She's damaged but I thought we understood

I'm fucked up too. She could've been the key.

She is a deceiving wolf in sheep's wool

Seduced me in the woods with words she spoke

Natural pull, left my heart feeling full

Stole my soul, left with only blood red cloak

I saw true colors, red behind her eyes

Jealous green on her skin, black in her heart

I finally saw through her fake disguise

But, still not before she tore me apart

I hate her, everything, I do abhor

Yet can't stop loving her and want her more

**Fix You**

It's funny. When I came here I only planned to stay below the radar. I didn't want or need friends. I had Beck and I had my writing and that's all I needed. Did it suck that he was far away most of the time now? Yeah. But I could deal.

I had no interest in making any new friends when I arrived, probably for the rest of my life. I'm not some wounded broken puppy, but I'm also not in the mood to open my heart again after Cristina crushed it.

But life never goes the way you plan and some idiot redhead bounces – literally – into your life and defends you against this bitch you've newly formed a crush on. She has no reason to come to your aid. She should've just stood there in the hallway, another bystander. But she didn't. She came in and helped me.

And it's not just me. She helped Andre too. He told me once that she saved him. He was the new guy in sixth grade and everybody was asking him if he had kissed a girl or gone to second base. They had all just graduated elementary school; it was time to prove they were men. At a co-ed sleepover Andre was dragged out for spin-the-bottle and nearly avoided it, but was sent to the closet with Cat. He said that she lied for him. He wasn't ready to do anything and, in an astounding amount of understanding and empathy for a subject she appeared so naïve on, she didn't make him. They came out of there and he was the hero that got farther than almost every guy at that party.

Ever since then he's looked out for her. He said she's got a way of sticking to you in a way where you never want to let her go. I never thought he'd be right.

Still, here I am in the art room caressing Cat's cheek, making sure she's okay. She's like my little sister now and I have to take care of her. "Cat?"

"Yeah Jade," she responds. She looks up at me with these big brown eyes and I'm shocked with what I see. She's seemingly unconcerned with herself. She's afraid that I'm not okay. Then I realize, of course, typical Cat looking out for everyone else before herself.

"I'm just gonna clean up your knee, okay?"

"Yeah." I grab a damp paper towel with soap and run it over her knee. She hit it hard on the ground when she fell from shock after being slapped. It was nothing but a minor bruise. A Band-Aid could probably just fix it, but I felt like I need to do more.

"Are you okay?" I stop washing off her knee and roll my eyes at myself. "Of course you're not okay. Stupid ass question." I continue washing off her knee just to avoid her eyes.

"In class sometimes I ask questions. People laugh and say they're stupid," Cat muses, looking out into the air like she can see a thousand fairies hidden to the average human eye, but she's special so she can see them. "I don't believe in stupid questions." She looks me dead in the eye. "I'm okay." And just like that, a switch flips in her and she returns back to normal, airy, perhaps somewhat crazy Cat. "Do you have a princess Band-Aid?"

"Sorry Cat," I reply, offering her a hand up. "I don't have any on me. Maybe the nurse has some?"

"You're right! After I started coming there every week the nurse finally started buying Princess Band-Aids for me!"

"Why were you going to the nurse every week?"

"I kept throwing up and they sent me here," she responds cheerily.

"Wait, what—"

"She gave me Band-Aids as a reward so I'd stop! It's a lot of fun. Can we go get one?"

"Yeah… sure."

**Fix You**

It isn't until a couple hours after I'd gotten Cat her princess Band-Aid that I walked past the bathroom into the bathroom during my free period. I had to pee and any student knows that during free periods is the only time you really have because there's not enough passing time between classes.

As I enter the bathroom I hear another unforgettable sound. It's the sound of someone gagging mixed with tears. It's not the typical I'm-giving-this-guy-a-blowjob-and-this-was-the-only-place-we-could go gag. It's the gag of somebody throwing up. It's wretched.

I hesitantly begin to approach the locked stall it's coming from and realize I can see the person's knees on the ground in the reflection of the sink mirrors, confirming my suspicions. "Hello?" I approach hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

The gagging stops and I wait there in silence with the unknown person behind the door. As the two of us wait there I begin to suspect what is happening. If someone had been naturally throwing up it would've been very obvious they couldn't contain it and yet this person had stopped. They should be throwing up, like it or not, not trying to pretend they don't exist until I leave. They were throwing up on purpose.

"Please come out," I call out uncertainly.

No response.

"I-I know what you're doing," I stammer. I wonder if I'm actually supposed to let them know I'm onto them or just never address it. Maybe I just fucked everything up. "You have to stop." I can hear them breathing on the other side of the door.

I couldn't help Cristina. I'm not letting another person fall down this road to darkness. Now when I have a chance to stop it this time. "Please, at least for today, just stop and come out." I lean against the bathroom stall.

They don't leave.

"I knew someone who did something like you did. I don't want to go to your funeral too."

I hear the person shuffle on the floor as if they're considering coming out. I wait there patiently as the nervousness grows in me. Will they come out? Should I just go in? Should I grab somebody, like Lane, to help?

When it becomes apparent that whoever is behind the door isn't coming out, I speak up again. "Whoever you are, please just remember all the people who care about you. Remember all the people who going to cry when they find out what you're doing to yourself. Remember that I care."

With that, I begin to walk out of the bathroom even though I still kind of have to pee, but I know that the person isn't coming out well I'm still here. The sound of my boots echo around on the floor as I walk out and wait for the door to slam behind me.

I pull out my phone and wait right outside the only door in or out. They'll have to come out eventually and when they do I'll be waiting there. I'm not letting somebody else's disorder kill them like it did with Cristina.

**I feel like nothing happened in this chapter, but in some senses a lot did. I wanted to make sure Jade wasn't just falling in love with her victimizer. I needed Jade to see Tori's truth, she's not a good person the way Jade fantasizes her to be. Also, I felt it important to write the next part in Tori's POV (which is not what I originally planned) so this chapter that was meant to be 1 is now going to be 2-part.**


	10. That Won't Scare Me Away, Oh No

**Recap: After Tori physically slaps Cat for no reason; Jade sees that the girl of her dreams is only a fantasy. Jade writes a heartbroken poem. Jade finds a girl in the bathroom purposely throwing up and tries to coax her out but can't. She now waits outside the bathroom waiting for her…**

That Won't Scare Me Away, Oh No

I wait in the bathroom stall for five minutes, just making sure she didn't 'leave' and secretly stay in the bathroom. I proceed to empty the contents of my stomach and flush the toilet. It always feels awful doing it, but the after effects are well worth it.

I'm usually not this sloppy. I only do this at home, but I needed to do this here and now. It was an almost primal need that's been embedded into my bones at this point. The motion of putting my fingers down my throat came easily from muscle memory even though the last time I did this was months ago.

After Jade confronted me in the hallway it's like… She saw straight through me with that damned X-Ray vision of hers. I felt like the center of a dartboard and she had just hit a bull's eye. I needed back some of that control and she stole it away from me.

She turned me back into that little eleven-year-old girl who couldn't get her sister to stay or her mother to love her. I could practically feel the fat on my stomach coming back and the pain in my heart returning. That's not me anymore

I won't let myself become that helpless little girl anymore. I'm going to lose all that childhood pudge and hopeless lack of control, whatever it takes. I'll cut again, throw up, and regain control.

As I begin to wash my hands from any bile on my hands I inspect my shape in the mirror. I sigh unsatisfactorily. I still look fat. I can see the skin on my stomach stretching and the fat on my legs touching, overlapping, as I stand with my legs at the normal place where there should be a thigh gap on most people. It almost makes me sick enough to run back in the stall and do it all over again.

I try to remember what those doctors at the hospital told me. I'm seeing an illusion in the mirror. I am fine. Except, what I'm looking at in the mirror is one of those fat girls at the table who have no boyfriend and are going nowhere in life and it seems pretty real.

I tried dieting on salads and doing everything they recommended, but it's not enough. They say it's not healthy to eat nothing for days, or to binge and throw up, but they don't understand. They think a diet's going to solve everything and you'll be fine, but I know the truth.

I begin drying my hands and smile to myself. I'm doing the right thing.

Before I leave, I check my make-up. She doesn't know what's happening in my life. She doesn't know anything about me. She'll never know what I do here between the tiles of the floor and the porcelain of the toilet. She'll never know the color of my red, metallic blood as it floats down the shower drain. It's my own little secret that gives me all the power.

I touch up my cheeks to give them a thinner look beneath my eyes and walk out the doorway, completely confident and ready to take on the world.

"Tori!"

**Fix You**

I recognize the voice instantly. It's the same one that has been running through my head all day long, telling me, "You are nothing but a heartless bitch who bullies other people in attempt to gain any semblance of control over their own fucked up life."

I wonder if it's just her haunting me again. I begin to think I'm growing so paranoid, so in pain, that I'm even imagining her now. She's my own personal devil that I'll never escape, trying desperately to take me down. She's become so prevalent in my mind she's manifested a corporeal body through my thoughts.

I think, 'If I just keep walking down the hallway and never looking back, will she follow?'. If I just keep walking will she go away? Will I make her disappear, at least for now?

What if I don't look in her direction? As long as I can't see her, she's not real. She's only a voice.

"Tori."

My head begins to turn of its own free will. I'm yelling, screaming at myself from a cage, not to look. I'm too afraid to look. But something more powerful, some deep-seeded curiosity or perhaps even the part of myself that hates me, **needs** to look.

There she is, just as I suspected, standing there in all her glory. She's wearing a red ¾ sleeve shirt that with lacy black gloves that let me see her perfectly porcelain wrists, only making me further cover up my own with my long sleeves. She has on skintight black leggings and she doesn't have a thigh gap and she still looks confident and… beautiful.

It kills me to see her.

"It was you."

I feel a flood of terror run through me. Of course it was me! Of course she knew it was me. She sees through my façade. She seems to see through my everything. She knows everything and I can't lie to her or outrun her.

In the middle of this panic, I decide to do what I do best. I shut down. I go on autopilot and let some other part of myself, the part that locks my heart and throws away the key and doesn't care what anyone says or thinks and does whatever it takes to stay on top, take over. I do what I've been doing for the past 6 years. "What are you talking about?"

"Behind that stall door it was you," she says in disbelief.

"Yes, despite popular opinion I am human and do need to go to the bathroom sometimes," I jab back. I don't know where it comes from, but it feels natural.

"We both know you weren't going to the bathroom in there," she whispers threateningly under her breath.

I grab her arm and drag her into the bathroom, practically throwing her against the wall opposite the door as I let go of her oddly warm hand. I always imagined her skin would be cold.

"You won't say a word to anyone," I hiss.

She pulls herself up from against the wall. "You can't just throw up all of your problems." Her confidence makes me feel like I'm faltering on the inside.

"I'm not."

"So that puking sound I heard was just you taking a piss?"

"I ate some steak that didn't agree with me today," I reply tightly.

"No you didn't," she replies with narrowed eyes that aren't buying what I'm selling. "You eat a salad every day at lunch, probably another thing to do with this crazy weight-loss insecurity you have."

"You are quite the stalker," I quip back, keeping my cool. "You must really be in love with me to know my exact eating habits."

"Don't avoid the question."

"As I recall, you never particularly asked one."

"Why are you even here?" I ask, annoyed and becoming unhinged. "You've been out to ruin my life since day one and now you have all the ammunition you could ask for. Yet, here you are in the bathroom trying to 'soul-search' it out with me," I sneer, hiding the defeated little girl I feel like inside.

"I'm here because I want to help you. You remind me a lot of my old… friend, Cristina. She fought darkness inside of her and she lost. I won't lose anyone else. Like it or not, I care about you."

And suddenly, I can feel myself break. I can feel all of my walls crumbling around me. It's not because Jade took a sledgehammer to it and it's not that she climbed them either. It's like… they fell of their own volition. They fell because they **wanted** to let her in.

It's been so long since anybody's even said they care about me, much less meant it. My father is never home long enough to say he cares, and when he is he sits down and watches a football game instead. Trina tells me she loves me… once a month at our scheduled Skype call. She doesn't even bother to try and call me more than that. She says 'love you' like an afterthought as she jets off to another college party across the country. She loves me like a girl loves a pair of shoes. My mother… well I think that's been established since I was eleven.

It happens in slow motion. I can feel every tendon, bone, and muscle in my legs give out as they hit the floor with a loud bang. My arms rise to my face as a singular tear flows from my eyes, prompting a river to follow.

As soon as I hit the floor, Jade is sitting there next to me. She envelops me in her arms and I can feel the warmth radiating off her body as she holds me. It's only then that I realize just how cold I've been for the last 5 years, skin just above freezing temperature. I've been at such a loss for physical human contact it's a shock to my system to feel it.

"I can feel it… slipping out of my hands," I mumble out through breathy tears, releasing down my face and shocking my shirt.

"It's okay," she replies, gently running her fingers through my hair. "Tell me about it."

I don't know how it happens. I don't know how I let it happen, but somehow I managed to take control of autopilot and put it on manual and now it's me – the real me – controlling myself and I just can't seem to stop. The words spill out of my mouth from the years I've kept them locked up inside.

"I'm losing control," I hyperventilate through tears. "Every day I can feel it. Ever since you came I've been l-l-losing it. I've been losing Ryder a-a-a long time coming and all my power in the school and worst of all I'm losing m-m-myself."

"Maybe, you're just finding yourself," she replies.

I don't know why I'm telling her all of this. Out of all the people in the world, I'm telling the one I trust least. Something about her… she's my weakness. She's always been my weakness. If she asked me to, I'd die for her tomorrow. I wouldn't want to, but I'd have no choice. I'd be powerless to her and I don't know why.

"My whole life I've been losing. I lost my father. I lost my sister. I… I lost my mother long before I even realized. And now I don't even know who-who I am anymore. Cutting and… and throwing up will never leave me. They-they give me power and I start winning."

"No Tori, they make you weaker," she mutters in my ear. "They set you up to feel powerful, but they have the real power. Before you know it, you've become their slave."

"But… they're the only things that stay."

"I'll stay. You've got me, Tori Vega. This whole time you've seen me as an enemy and all I've ever wanted was to understand you and be your friend."

I chuckle bitterly, "I think you want more than that, lesbo." I immediately feel even shitter after I say that.

"Maybe once upon a time," she replied calmly, "But not anymore. I only want to be there for you. "You've got me Tori, and I'm never ever going to leave you." I can't believe, even after insulting her and giving her hell every day, she's still here.

"That's what they all say…"

"Tori?"

She pauses, making me look up at her.

"Look me in the eyes," Her brilliant, cerulean eyes that speak only honesty and beauty. "I'm not going anywhere. Do you believe me?"

I have no other choice but to nod my head. I couldn't say no even if I meant it. "Please," I mutter weakly, "Don't make me regret it."

**Fix You**

For the rest of the day I feel tense as I sit in class with Jade. Will she reveal me for all the bad I've done on the inside? I continuously send her sideways glances of uncertainty, but every time she meets it with a look of trust and secrecy. It feels good not to be alone with this weight anymore. It feels freeing.

I know I can never really trust her. She could betray me at any time. Yet, staring into her brilliant, blue pupils I can't help but feel safe. She reassures me that everything is going to be okay.

**Fix You**

As soon as I arrive home, the feeling is gone.

I'm surrounded by the festering hatred and insecurity that was born, nurtured, and grown here over the years. All my fears and doubts bubble back up to the surface. Will she tell everyone? Will she destroy my entire reputation at Sherwood? In a moment of weakness, did I lose everything to this nobody?

I try to do my homework and just keep going. I need to have faith and retain the same hope I felt only hours ago in the bathroom, but the nagging doesn't leave me. The constant voices in my mind wondering whether I just lost it all. Did I fuck up again? Is everyone going to leave me when they find out? Carly? Santana? Ryder? Will everything I've built disappear?

The fear and the doubt become so strong I find myself walking, back on that autopilot I fought so hard to stop in the bathroom, towards the shower. I begin to run the water, hearing the pitter-patter rain down on my skin like the galloping of a thousand horses.

I try to convince myself that the beating water is enough pain; the water washing and rushing down my skin can cleanse me. It will wash away the constant cycle of starving myself, binge eating, throwing up, and crazy, insane diets. I won't have to cut anymore. I will be secure in myself.

But then, it all comes crashing down upon me and I just keep wondering if I'm going to lose all the power throughout the school that I've built over the years. Will I lose the family I made sure would never leave me and always love – or at least fear – me?

I imagine Jade's blue eyes, reminding me she'd never tell anyone. They tell me that I'm okay and everything is alright. Maybe things will be even better. But they don't have the same effect in my imagination. They're just a pair of blue eyes right now and with each second that passes her voice telling me 'I'm never going to leave' starts transforming into 'I'll always leave, the same way everyone else has.'

Life is only a cycle. It's a cycle of school, bills, and moments of happiness between the awful that trick us into believing life is worth living. It's a cycle of becoming attached to people only so they leave. It's a cycle of starving, binging, and throwing up all that regret. It's never going to change because it can't. The circle of life is vicious.

As I take the razor to my skin and watch the blood drip down the drain and the pleasure begin to outweigh the pain I tell myself that it's not my fault. I never had a choice to begin with. I'm only doing what I was always meant to do. Cut, bleed, regret, stop, and repeat. The circle of life.


	11. High Up Above or Down Below

High Up Above or Down Below

_ "The girl looks like an angel, but so did the devil before he fell."_ Andre's words echo through my head. I haven't thought about what he said until right now, but it seems fitting.

Is she an angel or is she the devil?

Her beauty matches only that of an angel, but she struggles with the dark nature inside of her and I can see it. She's a sleepwalker just like everyone else, but I've never met a person more alive and aware. She represents the paragon of order on the outside. On the inside, where no one can see, she is a chaotic mess. She's an A+ student, she obeys by all the rules, laws, and constructs placed by society, and she follows right in the footsteps of everyone else. Yet, she creates another set of footsteps outside the norm, they're just invisible to the average eye.

Everything she is, she isn't.

She shouldn't exist. She shouldn't be real. She's a paradox that should've ripped the universe apart, but still here she stands and still here the universe is left intact.

Is she even human?

Before this, I hadn't thought so. She seemed too perfect. She had risen above humanity in some ways. But after seeing her on the floor struggling with the same vulnerabilities and insecurities that everyone else experiences, it humanized her. For some reason, seeing her humanity made her even more beautiful.

Seeing her fall apart, the part of her that appeared perfect to me but was nothing more than an illusion, should've made me recoil. I should've been disappointed to find the glass that separated us, god and human, shatter. Yet, it was seeing her as more human that made her more astounding.

How can someone so human be so inhuman?

I should hate her. I did hate her for a while.

Finding her so broken, an angel who can't fly back to heaven or a demon that can't return to hell, changed things for me though.

Maybe it isn't healthy that I'm always attracted to these people who are so broken they might be beyond help. Maybe it's bad that I just can't resist fixing a hopeless case.

I can't stand watching people fall apart in front of my eyes. I barely survived after Cristina left me. Yet, here I am once again finding myself drawn to this beautiful brunette, who looks far too much like Cristina. Here I am again drawn to a woman who lives in the darkness. More than that, she's allowed the darkness to consume herself almost to the point of no return. Yet, here I am again trying to save her.

I'm a slight paradox as well. I can't stand the pain of people leaving me, but attach myself to those most likely and vulnerable to disappear.

I just can't resist. People who live in the light are innocent and naïve and most importantly ignorant. I can't stand ignorance. I suppose I just find something interesting about the dark and those who survive and thrive in it. Still, the most interesting are those who live ever-so in-between.

Perhaps that's where my masochistic paradox stems from.

**Fix You**

"Jade?" I turn my head towards the opening door with a roll of my eyes. He's supposed to knock. His hair is tousled and his eyes heavy with sleep, blinking as they continue getting acquainted to the light. I remove my ear buds and set down my pen, discreetly covering my writing with a spare piece of math homework. It's not that I've got something against people reading my in-progress work. I rather like it, in fact. The feedback and criticism makes me better. I just don't want him to read it. "There's been a girl knocking at the door for the past five minutes," he says, exhausted and annoyed that he'd been awoken and I hadn't heard. "She here to see you, says her name is Tori."

Had I been a dog, my ears would've visibly perked up. Immediately, I begin cleaning up my desk a bit in case she comes in and sees my mess. I know she probably won't come upstairs to my room. She'll stay downstairs in our foyer if she can: a quick escape plan. It's what I'd do. But I figure, just in case. "Thanks dad. Go back to bed, I'll be down right after you."

He nods groggily, already turned around on his way back downstairs to his bedroom. I quickly run around my room, picking up dirty underwear and readjusting my covers so my bed looks a bit neater. Quickly, I stop into my bathroom, fluffing my hair and grabbing a piece of gum.

When I reach downstairs I see her, shifting her weight in an uncomfortable stance as she looks down at her cell phone. She pretends to be texting, but nobody else would be up at this hour. She's pretending she has something to do to hopefully diffuse the tension of the situation.

She senses me immediately, head shooting up as she throws her cell phone in her back pocket. Her entire body is tense. From her tensed hands to her hardened cheekbones her features scream of worry. She tries to pass them off as cruel and uncaring. I'd almost believe her as well, if not for the quick second her eyes dart around: anxiety and nerves.

"How did you find my house?" I ask, arms crossed against my chest and weight leaning on my left leg.

"Carly." I raise a curious eyebrow. So that's her job in the group. She finds the information, the evidence of shame and guilt and humiliation if you will.

"Why are you here?" I ask, already knowing. Well, I don't know what's she's going to ay, but I do know what I expect.

"You can't tell anyone." A wave of disappointment passes over me. I was right. I was really hoping to be wrong. Perhaps she's not as special as I thought. She's just as predictable as the rest of the world. She's so desperate to be in control, to keep her secrets hushed that she'd do anything for them. What she doesn't realize is she's never in control. Her insecurity has the reins. She just thinks that by appeasing it, she'll have mollified it enough to regain control.

She doesn't understand that insecurity and control cannot exist together. She either has to conquer her self-doubt or live in fear of it. She will only be happy when she, and not the paralyzing opinions of herself and others, rule.

"I wasn't going to," I reply. Her face immediately breaks out in shock. She came prepared for a fight and threats.

Quickly gathering herself with an all too pleased smile she replies. "Good." She clears her throat. "So… I guess I'll be going now."

"Except," I counter. She turns back to me, a sigh escaping her lips and a look of knowing. I guess we're all a little predictable. "I need something in exchange for my silence."

She raises an expectant eyebrow. "What?" In that moment, I hold all the power. For the first time in our tenuous relationship (can it be called that? Our dynamic? Our abuse?) I hold the power. Out loud, she's finished responding, but I can tell what she's really saying. _Whatever you want is yours._ I could have her tell me her darkest secret, her dirtiest shame. I could tell her to break up with that stupid, cheating boyfriend of hers. I could tell her to be my own personal servant for the next month. She'd do it all. She'd do it just to stop me from ruining her. I could bring her to her knees.

I want to.

For a moment, I want to.

But the thing is, I could never do that. There are plenty of reasons why: she looks exactly like Cristina; she's broken and I have my desperate need to fix broken people; she's the most intriguing person I've ever met; she offers me a challenge; she's my muse. These could all be the reason I don't want to do any of that. They are all reasons. But mostly, I've come to care about her. I don't know why or how. I barely know her. I know perhaps her darkest and most vulnerable shame, but I barely know her. I still haven't really discerned if her name is short for Victoria or if she was actually named Tori. I've only created a fantasy that it is short for Victoria.

Yet for some reason I'm drawn to her and I care about her. Whether it is for the aesthetic pleasure she brings me or otherwise. I care about what happens to her.

"I need for you not to be silent," I finally respond, offering her my terms of agreement.

Surprise again. This time it's mixed with confusion. "What? Are you… You want me to come out and tell everybody about… what happened in the bathroom instead of you just telling everyone?" she lets out a scoff. "Fuck you. I cam here, peacefully looking to come to an agreement, but you know what, fuck that!" She takes a step closer to me now, eyes narrowed to slits so narrow her eyes only look like black, depthless pools. "I can and will destroy you if you so much as whisper what happened to your fucking stuffed animals. I have all the power of Sherwood and more at my fingertips. I can make your life a living, fucking hell. My boyfriend is the star player of the basketball team. If I tell him to start throwing you into lockers, tripping you in hallways, spilling coffee in your locker and on your clothes, the rest of the team will too." She takes another step closer so I can smell the mint on her breath. She wants me to back down and take a step back, but screw her if she thinks I will. "Carly can spread a vicious rumor about how you got herpes from your last boyfriend… oh wait, you don't have one of those do you? You're a raging fucking lesbo. I know you come from that Hollywood Arts School for the fags, but we're not too accepting here at Sherwood. I could tell the entire school. You'd be ostracized and bullied until the day you graduate."  
I stare at her for a moment, darkness in her eyes and a long sleeve t-shirt with jeans, probably meant to hide whatever new cut she'd made somewhere on her body. Perhaps I've been deluding myself this whole time. This is who she is. People can't change. Perhaps she's seen more darkness than I thought.

But then I think back to the girl in the bathroom, crying in my arms and revealing her secrets. She wants to heal. She doesn't want to be in this darkness, she toes the line hoping to god its not in vain. And I remember the day she poured iced coffee on my head. She had… I think she had wanted to say dyke. I mean, she knows I'm gay. Still, she didn't say it then and she hasn't told the rest of the school either. There is good in her.

Calmly, I respond. "You misunderstand me."

She scoffs at me, pulling a mirror with concealer out of her purse. She calmly reapplies, back in her element now that she's controlling and threatening other people. "Still trying?"

"I don't want you to go out and tell other people. I don't want to hurt you in anyway." She stops reapplying. "I want you to talk to someone and get some help." She lets out an angry groan. "I want you to talk to therapist."

And then, she does something scary. Like genuinely scary. She smirks. She smirks and closes her make-up mirror with a snap, laughing all the while. It's not a laugh inspired by comedy, but one released in mockery. "A therapist?" she looks at me like I'm the biggest joke in the universe. "You want me to see a fucking head shrink?" Now she's downright roaring with laughter. "Jade, I don't think you see how this works. I'm not going to be talking to anybody. We're beyond the point of making deals. I'm simply here to get your silence once and for all. Now, you shut up and I won't destroy you. Got it?"

"No," I retaliate stubbornly.

The look in her eyes is positively predatory. "What do you mean no?"

"You can't threaten me with anything. I'm not afraid of you, Tori. I only want to help you because you don't seem interested in helping yourself."

"I am helping myself."

"No, you're hiding and losing and continuing to hurt yourself," I respond.

"I'm doing what it takes to survive," she bites back. The close-quarters anger evaporates as she steps back and continues on flippantly, as if this whole conversation is beneath her. "Why do you even care?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

Scoff. "It's because you're in love with me," she taunts, "Fucking lesbo. All this shit you're trying to do, 'helping me,'" she uses air quotations, "won't get me any closer to fulfilling any of your fingering fantasies."

"You might want to work on your raging homophobia while you're in therapy," I respond. I know I should stop there, but I just can't resist adding in a snide little comment. "Might be repressing something." I smirk.

"You wish."

"I know a therapist if you want to use them," I say, getting back onto track and returning to the serious matter at hand.

"I told you I'm not going to fucking therapy!" she almost screams, arms flailing in an angry motion.

"If you want my silence, the only way to get it is to go to therapy," I'm not backing down from this. "Your threats won't work."

She stands their silently for a long time, contemplating. I can practically see the gears and wires and ticks in her head, trying to find a plan and a way out of this. "I could," she finally responds, "help you out with those… repressed wishes if you want?" She's practically purring at this point. She has this mysterious glint in her eyes that I can't deny made my knees turn to jello.

"Not interested," I say firmly, taking a step back. _That is a complete lie and I am so fucking incredibly interested, but not like this and not now. I'm not ready._

Her face hardens as she steps away for the thousandth time tonight. "You could've done this the easy way," she says with a cluck of her tongue. "Guess we're going the hard way."

"I told you, your threats don't work on me."

"What about on your friends? That little… Kitty Cat you hang out with," her nose visibly crinkles. "Or that retarded little prick Andre Harris? You care about them, right? I'll be their hell and high water."

"You hurt a fucking hair on their heads and I'll tell everyone."

"They wouldn't believe you," Tori responds easily.

"If they wouldn't believe me, why are you here?" I challenge. She looks lost for words, knowing she'd screwed up. "It only takes one little rumor to turn everyone against you."

"I knew you couldn't be such a saint, saying you 'cared about me,'" she attempts to mimic my voice. She was doing rather horribly I might add. "Ready to tell the moment it suits your needs." She moans in disgust.

"Don't threaten my friends," I respond. "So… therapy?"

**Hey guys, I'm sorry! I know it's been like 3 months… I'm not even going to make excuses. Anyways, I just hope if nothing else whoever is continuing to read this enjoys!**


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